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W. 0. STODDARD’S BOOKS. 


DAB KINZER. A Story of a Growing Boy $i.oo 

THE QUARTET. Sequel to Dab Kinzer . . . L i.oo 

SALTILLO BOYS 

AMONG THE LAKES i.oo 

WINTER FUN i.oo 

Complete sets, 5 vols., \-zmo, in box, $5.00. 


AMONG THE LAKES 


BY 

WILLIAM O. STODDARD 

>1 

\UTHOR OF “dab KINZER,” “ THE QUARTET,” “ SALTILLO BOYS 



ETC. 


NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 

1890 




Copyright, 1883, by 

CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS. 


(S4t 
\VV\. S. 

fzAr, ^7,. I ^ 5 W 


c 

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Pkesswork by Berwick & Smith, Boston, U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. 

PiNEY ^ I 

CHAPTER II. 

Country Fun 

CHAPTER III. 

Trading with the Indians 23 

CHAPTER IV. 

A Grand Arrival 33 

CHAPTER V. 

The Curiosity-Shop 45 

CHAPTER VI. 

PiNEY TO THE RESCUE 1 . ' 55 

CHAPTER VII. 

Kyle Wilbur 65 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Heroic PIeifer 74 

CHAPTER IX. 

A Country Sunday Morning 85 

iii 


IV 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER X. Page 

At the Meeting-House 93 

CHAPTER XI. 

A Great Egg-Hunt ica 

CHAPTER XII. 

Fishing, Swimming, and the Ram 113 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Bi ON THE Ball-Ground 122 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Up and Down the Road 132 

CHAPTER XV. 

Exploration and Discovery 142 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Great Trials coming 153 

CHAPTER XVII. 

It never Rains but it PoUrs 167 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Examination-Day 177 

CHAPTER XIX. 

The Exhibition 190 

CHAPTER XX. 

Preparing for a Voyage . . . . . . .199 

CHAPTER XXI. 

The Voyage Begins . , . . .207 


CONTENTS. 


V 


CHAPTER XXII. Page 

A Grand Time 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

What Became of the Lunch-Basket . . , . .230 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Prizes and Surprises 24D 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Into the Vacation 249 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

Bumblebees and Honey 257 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

The Hay-Ride 268 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

The Match Game 278 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

The Battle-Ground 287 

CHAPTER XXX. 

The Last Week in the Country 297 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

In the Great City 304 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

A Great, New World * 3^1 


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AMONG THE LAKES. 


CHAPTER I. 

PINEY. 

“ She’s done it ! I give it up. They’re making 
the biggest kind of a show. I don’t believe they 
could beat that much, if they tried. Aunt Keziah 
said she’d have some peonies in bloom when the 
folks got here from the city. I wasn’t more’n half 
sure she could, but she’s done it.” 

It was somewhat out of season for peonies, sure 
enough ; but there they were, blooming witnesses 
to the floral skill of aunt Keziah. The sun had not 
been up a full hour as yet ; but he was shining very 
warmly upon the plump and rosy face of the uncom- 
monly healthy-looking boy who stood in the dewy 
grass of that ample front yard, gazing down at the 
peonies. 

“The old tub’s chock full of ’em,” he continued. 
“They’re almost all burst out now. They’ll burst 
the tub next. What fat, red-faced fellows they are ! 


2 


AMONG THE LANES. 


Aunt Keziah says I’m just like ’em, but I don’t 
care. They’re real pretty, anyhow. I don’t believe 
I’ll ever tumble all to pieces ; and they will, soon as 
they get through bursting. I’m fat all the year 
round.” 

Hullo, Piney!” 

He did not turn around, nor even take his hands 
out of his pockets, as he answered the shrill hail 
from the gate, — 

“Hullo, Kyle! Is that you.? Have you drove 
your cows to pasture .? I have.” 

“ Course I have, or I guess I wouldn’t be over 
here. What’s the matter with your pinies ? It 
looks as if the tub was a-sinking with ’em.” 

“ Sinking .? Well, you’d sink if you had all those 
flowers to carry. Ain’t they red, though ! ” 

“Reddest kind. Aunt Keziah named you after 
’em, didn’t she .? ” 

“ That’s what she says.” 

“They’re redder’n you are, — some. They’re a 
good deal handsomer too.” 

“I ain’t any kind of flower, and I don’t live in 
a tub. Aunt Keziah says I burst every thing that’s 
put on me, though, just as they do. That’s why 
they make all my clothes so loose to begin with.” 

“Those fellows are bursting all their clothes. 
There isn’t any mistake about that. Glad there’s 
.no danger my skin’ll ever crack that way.” 


COME TO breakfast: 


3 


“ I say, Kyle, how’d you like to go fishing ? ” 
Tip-top. Guess I would. That’s what fetched 
me over. It’s a Saturday.” 

“ That’s so ; and you know we can’t go next 
Saturday.” 

“ Well, no,” said Kyle. “ I guess we can’t. And 
I haven’t more’n half learned my piece for the ’cad- 
emy exhibition.” 

“I’ve learned mine. ’Tisn’t that I’m afraid of 
just now.” 

“ What then 1 ” 

“ What then ! ” exclaimed Piney, with a slight 
opening of his honest eyes in astonishment. “ Why, 
the examination ! ” 

“ Oh ! that’s nothing. I’m all right. Wilbur 
begins with a ‘ W;’ and that puts my name a’most 
down to the bottom of the list. Bill Young and I 
talked it all over. There’s a string of ’em, you 
know, and they’ll never get down to him or me.” 

“ They’ll get to me, then, sure’s you live. Oh, 
but won’t I turn red in the face when my name’s 
called! And won’t I just forget all I know, right 
off I ” 

“Piney.? Piney.? Piney.? Come in I To brea-ak- 
fast!” 

A clear, sweet, girlish voice was calling, very 
positively, from the top of the steps in the middle 
of the front piazza; and Piney at once started for 
the house. 


4 


AMONG THE LANES. 


** I’ll come over right away after breakfast,” 
shouted Kyle Wilbur, after him, — '‘just as soon as 
I eat mine.” 

“ All right,” shouted Piney in response ; and he 
added to himself, “He ought not to miss that, nor 
his dinner either. Aunt Kezi says his face’d do 
for a hatchet. I wish she’d call me by some other 
name. But then, Dick’s the nickname for Richard, 
and I don’t know as I’d like that any better. She 
might have picked out a meaner flower if she’d 
tried. Bull-thistles are red too. What if she’d 
called me ‘ Thistles ’ ? ” 

There was evidently a love of fun in the family, 
at all events ; and a fair share of it had come down 
to him. 

“ Piney, why don’t you hurry ? ” 

“ What for, Roxy ? ” 

“Why, for breakfast. It’s all ready. I’ve been 
helping aunt Keziah.” 

“ Did you boil the radishes ? ” 

“ Not this time. Guess I know better’n that 
how ; but I picked the strawberries, and I put lots 
of sugar on them.” 

“ Brown sugar ? ” 

“ No, of course I didn’t. I put on the white fine 
sugar out of the wooden box. Aunt Keziah put 
the box on the table, and I sugared the berries.” 

The look upon Piney’s face told very frankly of 


THE OLD FARMHOUSE, 


5 


his liking for strawberries, with cream and plenty 
of sugar. As for Roxy’s face, there was a large 
amount of expression there also. It was full of 
pride and satisfaction over the quality and quantity 
of her morning’s work. It was not so plump a face 
as her brother’s ; although her eyes and hair were 
as dark as his, and any one would have said at once 
that she was his sister. She could hardly have 
been over seven or eight years of age, while Piney 
must have been somewhere between thirteen and 
fifteen. When a boy is large for his age, and is 
growing fast, it is not always easy, for even the 
best judges of boys, to say within a year or so 
how old he probably is. 

Roxy was not at all large for her age : she was 
only a little too old for it. That was why she some- 
times walked into mistakes, — such errors, for ex- 
ample, as the needless boiling of the crisp, fresh 
radishes. 

Roxy and Piney went on into the house ; and, 
without any reference to them, the sun rose slowly 
and steadily, higher and higher, promising a grand, 
warm June day. He had a great many pretty 
places to look down upon that morning, but not 
many which were prettier than that valley. 

The old farmhouse stood right at the head of a 
little lake. It was big and white, with a high 
peaked roof, from which the dormer-windows looked 


6 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


out as if they were forever watching for somebody 
who might be coming around the turn of the dusty 
road. A great many people did come, too, from 
time to time ; but the windows on the roof sat right 
there, and watched for somebody else, all the same, 
as if these were not the right ones. There were 
no blinds up there ; but there were dark-green blinds 
to all the windows of the lower story, and those 
which opened upon the front piazza came right down 
to the floor. 

The barns and the hay-ricks were away back from 
the road, and the ground sloped gently from them 
to the front fence. The gates and all the face of 
the house looked towards the east and the sunrise. 
Towards the south, in like manner, all the ground 
sloped to the edge of the lake, without any swampy 
border by the water. The grass was kept pretty 
closely mown down, so as to make a very beautiful 
green lawn. You could have measured out of it a 
round dozen of perfect croquet-grounds if there had 
been any need for them. 

Away to the northward, a mile and more, there 
was another little lake ; and beyond that was yet 
another. A bright little bit of a river ran into the 
upper lake, and out of that into the next, and out 
of that into the third, and out of that, with a good 
deal more water to carry, it ran into the valley be- 
low. A man in a boat, if it were not too large, 


CHUB^S DISCO yERV. 


7 


could row himself all over those lakes, and from one 
to the other ; and then he could row ort entirely, and 
follow the river, nobody knew exactly how far. Of 
course, if nothing should be in the way, and if noth- 
ing should happen to stop him, he could keep right 
on rowing until he should come to the end of the 
river. At least, that was what Roxy had said 
about it. 

Nobody but the Indians on the Reservation, long 
miles to the northward, could pronounce the name 
of that river correctly ; but after all the white men 
gave up trying, and spelled it out, they called it the 
“ Ti-ough-ne-au-ga.” That was about as near as 
they could have hit that name if they had shot at 
it with a bow and arrow, not knowing how to shoot 
very well. It was very sweet and musical, neverthe- 
less, especially when it was uttered by the right 
kind of people ; and it is just so with a great many 
other words. 

Roxy had been in a particularly great hurry to 
have Piney come to his breakfast that morning. 
To tell the truth about her, she was somewhat apt 
to be a little ahead of time, and this was one of 
those times. When Piney entered the dining-room> 
the only person yet seated at the table was his 
younger brother “ Chub ” in his high-chair. 

There was no need of asking that boy how he 
came by his name; but, just at that moment. Chub 


8 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


was uncommonly red in the face, and was pounding 
the table with a spoon, while he uttered a squall 
that made aunt Keziah put down the coffee-pot very 
suddenly, and rush in from the kitchen. 

“ Roxy } Roxy } What on earth are you doing to 
that baby ? ” 

“No, I ain’t. I ain’t doing any thing at all. I 
brought him a whole saucerful of strawberries, and 
I poured the cream all over them.” 

“I never told you to!” exclaimed aunt Keziah. 
“You’re a meddlesome girl. What can be the mat- 
ter with that child } ” 

Chub squalled again, with a vigor which prevented 
any idea that his infant strength of lungs was fail- 
ing him. 

“ Piney, ring the bell for your mother. Roxy, 
tell Ann to bring in the breakfast. Chub, tell me I 
What’s the matter ? ” 

“ Berry I Berry sour,” whimpered poor Chub, as 
he pushed the saucer away from him. 

“Sour.? No, they’re not. They can’t be. You 
naughty boy, to scare me so ! ” 

“ What does ail him, Keziah .? ” 

A tall, pallid, 'languid-looking lady, evidently not 
in good health, came in at that moment ; but even 
the arrival of his mother failed to pacify Chub. 

“ I don’t know what’s got into him. He’s con- 
trary.” 


THE WRONG BOX. 


Q 


He consented to be silent while the rest took 
their seats, however ; and the mystery did not last 
long after that. It was almost a matter of course 
that Piney should be the first person to try a heap- 
ing spoonful of those ripe red berries. 

“Mother! Aunt Keziah ! ” sputtered he, as he 
reached suddenly out for a tumbler of water. 

“ What is it, Piney } ” 

“ The berries are salted ! 

“ Salted I ” exclaimed aunt Keziah. “ Piney 
Hunter I What do you mean } ” 

“ Richard, my son,” murmured his mother, 
“salted 

“Yes, mother; just you taste ’em. No wonder 
Chub called ’em sour.” 

“O Roxy I Roxy Hunter! This is some of your 
work.” 

“ No, mother. I saw aunt Keziah bring the box 
out Iwself.” 

“ The salt-box ! So I did, and the sugar-box too. 
They’re just alike. Oh, dear! That child’ll pizen 
us all yet.” 

Aunt Keziah’s face was as red with vexation, 
almost, as Piney’s own was with the laugh he was 
trying to keep down. He did his best, but some of 
it had to be laughed, to get rid of it. Roxy’s face 
was pretty red too ; for she had tasted the berries, 
and knew exactly what the salt had done for them. 


10 


AMONG THE LAKES, 


‘‘Roxy,” said her mother, “you can go right out 
into the garden, and pick some more berries. When 
you come in, you are not to have any.” 

“Glad there’s plenty of ’em on the vines,” said 
aunt Keziah. “These’ll have to be thrown away. 
But, Elizabeth, what are we to do with Roxy t Sup- 
pose her uncle and aunt and all the rest had been 
here. I’d have died of mortification.” 

“Uncle Liph wouldn’t,” said Piney. “He’d have 
laughed.” 

“Not with salted berries in his mouth,” said aunt 
Keziah. 

Poor crestfallen little Roxy was already marching 
out through the back door, with her basket on her 
arm, muttering, — 

“ I wish I’d ha’ tasted it before I put it on. Then 
I’d ha’ known it was salt.” 


CHAPTER II. 


COUNTRY FUN. 

There were indeed vines and strawberries in 
great abundance in that garden, for aunt Keziah 
Merrill was as proud of all that grew there as she 
was of her peonies and of all her other flowers. 

Roxy picked away as fast as she could ; but she 
was glad enough when, in a minute or so, her big, 
good-natured brother came out to help her. 

“Don’t cry, Roxy,” he said, as he knelt down 
near her. “These berries’ll be just as good as the 
others were, and we’ll put sugar on them this 
time.” 

“ But I can’t have any of them,” whimpered poor 
Roxy. 

“ Never mind. I’ll ask mother if you can’t have 
some of mine. Let’s hurry. Kyle Wilbur and I 
are going a-fishing after breakfast.” 

“ Oh ! can I go with you ? ” 

“Not this time. You see, Roxy, we want to 
catch some fish.” 


12 


AMONG THE LAKES, 


‘‘ I can catch fish.” 

‘‘Well, yes, if you could sit still long enough to 
hook one. But I don’t believe mother and aunt 
Keziah’ll let you go.” 

Roxy was very much of Piney’s opinion on that 
head ; but she asked, all the same, as soon as they 
got into the house with their berries. 

“ In the boat ? ” exclaimed her mother. “ And 
get upset, and get yourself drowned, maybe ” 

“The boat won’t upset.” 

“No, perhaps it w^ouldn’t,” said aunt Keziah. 
“ But she’s been a naughty girl this morning. Be- 
sides, I want her in the house : I’m going to make 
some cake.” 

“ Cake ^ O aunty I I’d rather make cake than 
catch fish.” 

“Yes; but you must let things alone. I can’t 
afford to have my cake salted.” 

“I won’t touch.” 

“Mother,” said Piney, “let me give Roxy some 
of my berries .? ” 

“Just a few, then; but I wish her to remember 
about the sugar. Only give her a few.” 

“About the salt, you mean,” said aunt Keziah. 
“ Well, after all, she’s a pretty good little girl some- 
times ; that is, if she wouldn’t be so forward. I’ll 
give her just a few of mine.” 

Chub said nothing about giving anybody a share 


THE OLD SCO IF. 


13 


of the goodies in his own saucer, but he tasted them 
with scrupulous care before he trusted his mouth 
with a spoondoad of them. His natural confidence 
in strawberries and cream had been severely shaken 
that morning. 

Piney did not linger long at the table. When he 
reached the shore of the little lake, with his rod 
and line all ready, and his bait in an old blacking- 
box, there was Kyle Wilbur sitting in the boat, and 
waiting for him. 

“ Guess you didn’t eat much breakfast,” said 
Piney. 

Yes, I did. Did you eat two this time? What 
made you so long ? ” 

** Oh ! I had to go out and pick some more straw- 
berries.” And then the story of Roxy’s blunder 
had to come, and Piney told it in a way that made 
Kyle all but laugh himself out of the boat. If 
aunt Keziah had been there she would have said it 
was the best thing in the world for a thin, peaked- 
faced, hungry-looking boy like him. 

In a minute or so more they were rowing away, 
straight across the lake, towards the woods on the 
other side. Both of them said they were sure the 
fish bit better over there than they ever did on 
the side nearest the farmhouse. 

The boat was a good one, and not at all likely to 
be upset. It was square at each end, and the boys 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


spoke of it as “the scow.” It was quite good 
enough for them to fish from, and it may be that 
they were right in what they said about the habits 
of the fish in that lake. They certainly seemed 
disposed to bite very freely that morning, along 
the shore where the tall trees leaned out over the 
water. The day was beginning to be a warm one, 
and the finny people may have gone over there with 
an idea that it was likely to be shadier and cooler 
than elsewhere by and by. 

Both Piney and Kyle seemed to be pretty good 
fishermen, and the latter said he “ guessed luck was 
with them for once.” The perch and sunfish and 
bullheads came over into the boat, one at a time, 
quite regularly, every few minutes, for an hour or 
so. Piney even hooked one pickerel that must have 
weighed a pound. 

“ I caught a bigger one than that last week,” said 
Kyle. 

“ Well, that’s nothing ; but it’s good to catch ’em. 
They eat up all the others. Aunt Keziah hates ’em. 
She says they eat more’n any other fish there is, 
and can’t get fat on it either.” 

“Guess I’m some kind of a pickerel, then. I say, 
Piney, have you practised your piece for the ’cad- 
emy exhibition ” 

“Mother made me say it to her once, but I just 
don’t believe I could ever say it before a crowd.” 


QUEER PRACTISING. 


15 


‘‘Who’s afraid of a crowd? I ain’t. I don’t 
care how many there is.” 

“ I do, then.” 

“ Look here, now. Why don’t you try and speak 
it out here ? It’s just the place. What is it ? ” 

“Oh, it’s an old one! Everybody knows it. It 
begins, ‘Oh, why does the white man follow my 
path ? ’” 

“That’s an Indian piece. You ought to speak it 
once right out in the woods like an Indian. Let’s 
go ashore and try it.” 

Piney sat and seemed to be thinking for a mo- 
ment, and his face grew very red indeed ; but he 
came up to the mark quite promptly with, — 

“Well, I will, if you won’t tell anybody. Then 
will you speak yours after I’m done ? ” 

“ Of course I will. We’ve got fish enough for 
once.” 

“No, we haven’t; but we can come back again, 
and catch some more. Let’s go ashore now.”' 

The anchor, a large, heavy stone, was at once 
pulled up from the bottom ; and then the scow was 
quickly fastened to a bush on the bank, while the 
pair of young orators went on under the shade of 
the tr^^'C^ They knew there would be nobody near 
enough to near them, for all the men about the 
place were busy in the fields. In fact, the woods 
were as still and every other way as pleasant as 


i6 


AMOA^G THE LAKES. 


could have been asked for ; and, if the tall hickories 
and maples were getting ready to listen, they did 
not say a word about it to confuse the speakers. 
Besides, there was something new and fresh and 
remarkable about the whole undertaking. 

‘‘ Hurrah, Kyle ! Look at what I’ve found ! ” 
suddenly exclaimed Piney. Pie had stooped to tie 
one of his shoes before beginning his piece, and he 
now held up 'something triumphantly. “I’m to be 
an Indian warrior, and here I’ve gone and picked up 
a real Indian arrowhead.” 

Kyle examined it eagerly enough at first ; but he 
was not the kind of boy to admire any thing too 
much, and he coolly remarked, — 

“ That’s nothing. People pick ’em up everywhere. 
Father ploughed up a stone hatchet last spring. 
That’s a pretty big arrowhead, though. Most of 
’em are little fellows. It’s too big to shoot.” 

It was a piece of flint, about as wide as a half- 
dollar, and more than twice as long, tapering to a 
point at one end, with sharp, ragged edges, and at 
the other end it had a sort of a knob with a notch 
in it. 

“That’s to fasten it to the arrow by,” said Piney, 
“ Uncle Liph has any number of ’em. I mean to 
give him this when he comes.” 

“ I guess father’d let him have the stone hatchet,” 
said Kyle. “ Did you say he was coming on a visit ? ” 


ORATORY IN THE WOODS. 


17 


‘'We expect he’ll get here to-night. There’s a 
ot of ’em coming.” 

“All of ’em city folks.” 

“I don’t care if they are. Now, Kyle, you stand 
over there by that hickory ; and I’ll stand here on 
this knoll, and I’ll speak my piece. Don’t you laugh 
now.” 

Piney brandished the stone arrowhead in his right 
hand, and boldly launched into his recitation. 

“ Oh ! why does the white man follow my path 
Like the hound on the tiger’s track 
Does the hue of my dark cheek waken his wrath ? 

Does he covet the bow at my back?” 

Right there Piney pointed fiercely over his shoul- 
der with the arrowhead, resolving to have some kind 
of real bow provided to point at in time for use at 
the academy exhibition. He went safely through 
with verse after verse of the poetry, while Kyle 
Wilbur leaned against the hickory and watched him. 

“First-rate,” shouted Kyle. “But you’ll never 
do it that way before a crowd. Are you sure you’ll 
remember it all then .? ” 

Kind o’ half-way sure.” 

“ I wish I was half-way sure of remembering 
mine ; but I ain’t.” 

“Tell you what, Kyle. Guess I’d better have the 
arrowhead in one hand, and the stone hatchet in 


i8 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


the other. Then I could put it through. What 
piece did you learn } ” 

‘"Well, I picked out ‘The boy stood on the 
burning deck.’ It’s awful old ; but then I’ve spoken 
it before, and I won’t be so likely to break dovm 
on it.” 

“‘The boy stood on the burning deck,’ ” repeated 
Piney. “Why, that doesn’t belong to the woods. 
You ought to practise that in the boat.” 

“Guess not,” said Kyle. “You couldn’t set the 
old scow afire, and she hasn’t a square inch of 
deck.” 

“ Oh ! we can fix that. Come on. Gather all the 
birch-bark and hickory-bark you can lay your hands 
on.” 

“ Why, what are you going to do ? ” 

“I’ll show you. Come along. I’ve got an idea 
in my head.” 

“You’re always getting ideas in your head,” 
grumbled Kyle ; but he did as he was bidden, for it 
was plain, that, of those two boys, Piney Hunter 
was very decidedly the leader. 

It took but a few minutes to gather armfuls of 
dry bark, and they hurried away towards the scow. 
Piney dropped his load on a dry spot in the bottom. 
Next, he picked up a long, wide, flat board which 
lay there, and put it across the top of the boat, 
from side to side. 


TJTE BURNING DECK. 


19 


** There’s your deck, Kyle,” he shouted, — “all 
the deck you’ll want this time. Now for your fire.” 

The pieces of bark were quickly heaped upon the 
board, and a match and a wisp of paper from Piney’s 
pocket did the rest. The fire was there. 

“Now, Kyle!” 

“ Now what } ” said Kyle, a little dubiously. 
“That isn’t much of a deck, and you’ve made so 
much fire I can’t stand on it.” 

“Can’t help that. You can stand as close to it 
as the fire’ll let you. You can make believe all the 
m.asts and sails are on fire over your head. You 
can make believe I’m your father, and I’m dead, 
and can’t tell you to stop till you’ve done speaking 
your piece. Pitch in.” 

As he said that, Piney shoved the boat from the 
shore, and the bark began to blaze and smoke tre- 
mendously. He was a boy of ideas, and no mis- 
take. 

“‘The boy’” — began Kyle, in a somewhat un- 
steady voice, as he stood up behind the small but 
vigorous bonfire on the board, — 

“ ‘ The boy stood on the burning deck. 

Whence all but he had fled . 

The flame that lit the battle’s wreck 
Shone round him’ — 

ough — ough — ough — ough — Look a’ here, 
Piney Hunter, you’ve swung the boat around so 


20 


AMOA^G THE LAHES. 


the wind blows the smoke right in my face. I’ll 
cough my head off — ough — ough ! ” 

‘‘I guess the real boy in the story had a coughing- 
spell before the old ship blew up,” said Piney. Go 
ahead. Our ship won’t blow up, — not till you 
finish your piece.” 

There was no help for it, and Kyle went bravely 
on for several stanzas ; but, just as he huskily ex- 
claimed in the poetry, — 

“ ‘ And shouted but once more aloud, 

“ My father, must I stay ? ” ’ ” 

he was compelled to add, “ Hold on, Piney. If his 
boat had rocked like that, he wouldn’t have staid 
in it half a minute. Don’t be mean, now. I’m 
most through.” 

“I won’t,” said Piney; and Kyle went on. He 
was going ahead splendidly, when Piney suddenly 
seized the board, with its blazing load, and shoved 
the whole thing over into the lake. 

“It isn’t time to blow up,” said Kyle, almost 
reproachfully. 

“Go right on,” said Piney. “The deck was 
burned clean through, that’s all. You’ll have to 
speak the rest of it without any fire.” 

Kyle went on, without missing a word; but he 
sat down very suddenly, at the end of it all, as if 
he had doubts as to what might be Piney Hunter’s 
next intentions. 


WHAT A BOY I 


21 


** That’s tip-top, Kyle,” said Piney. “It’s a great 
deal better’n mine. They won’t let us set the 
academy-hall platform on fire, though. You’ll have 
to do it without any deck.” 

“I won’t be choked half to death with birch-bark 
smoke, either. I say, let’s catch some more fush.” 

So they did, and the luck was every way respect- 
able ; but when they finally tired of it, and rowed 
across the lake for some dinner, aunt Keziah hardly 
looked at Piney’s string of fish before she asked 
him, — 

“ What made you kindle a fire in the woods ? 
Right in summer ! ” 

“ We didn’t do it, aunt Keziah.” 

“You didn’t kindle any ? ” 

“ All that fire was out on the water.” 

“ In the boat } What for 1 ” 

“ Why, it was all to help Kyle Wilbur speak his 
piece. He had to have some burning deck.” 

“ Oh, dear ! What a boy ! ” 

A few more questions and answers brought out 
the whole truth of the matter. 

“Piney Hunter!” exclaimed aunt Keziah, while 
the tears of laughter rolled down her cheeks. 
“You’ll set the lake on fire next. — Roxy, keep 
your fingers away from those fish. There I I 
thought so. One of the bullheads has pricked you 
with his horns.” 


22 


AMONG THE LANES, 


O aunty ! It hurts me awfully. I’ll never touch 
one of them again, — not as long as I live.” 

You’d better not, then. — It’s a real good string 
though, and I’m glad of it. Your uncle’s fond of 
fish.” 

‘^And I’ve found an Indian arrowhead for him,” 
said Piney. ** And Kyle Wilbur said he’d give me 
a stone hatchet that his father ploughed up.” 

“Well, now,” said aunt Keziah, “he likes that 
sort of thing. It’ll just please him. — Roxy, go and 
call your mother. — Piney, wash your hands. It’s 
dinner-time. — But what won’t those boys do next ! 
Fire in a boat ! ” 


CHAPTER III. 

TRADING WITH THE INDIANS. 

Every now and then, while they were at the 
dinner-table, Roxy gave a pitying look at the thumb 
of her right hand. There was a very distinct mark 
upon it; for the ‘‘horns” of a bullhead are sharp 
and stiff, and she had tried to pick up the slippery 
little fish without so much as remembering that he 
had any weapons about him. 

“I didn’t hurt him one bit,” she muttered resent- 
fully; but Piney overheard her, and he answered, — 

“ No, Roxy, you didn’t hurt him ; but I did when 
I caught him, and perhaps he knew you were a 
sister of mine.” 

“Teach her a lesson,” said aunt Keziah. “Some- 
times I almost wonder she has any fingers left : 
she puts them everywhere.” 

For all that, however, aunt Keziah put on her 
spectacles, and looked closely at the dent upon 
Roxy’s thumb. 

“There, dear, it isn’t much. Don’t make any 
more fuss about it.” 


23 


24 


AMONG THE LANES. 


It hurts yet.” 

“ I guess he didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

"‘Yes, he did. I hope uncle Liph’ll eat him up.” 

“All but his horns,” said Piney. “You may have 
them.” 

It was a splendid summer day, and the doors of 
the house were all wide open. So were all the 
windows, but the blinds were carefully closed. Up 
on the roof, where there were no blinds, the dormer 
windows seemed to be more widely awake than 
common, as if they were looking out for the arrival 
of the expected visitors from the city. It was hours 
too early for them, whether the windows knew it 
or not ; but a great many other travellers came 
along the road. The largest company which ai- 
rived together was a flock of sheep, with a man and 
two boys, and a dog to keep them going ; and the 
noise they all made, just after dinner, brought out 
Piney Hunter and Roxy upon the piazza. 

There was nothing unusual or wonderful about a 
flock of sheep, although that was quite a large flock ; 
but, not a great distance behind them all, there also 
came such a queer-looking little man that Piney 
laughed outright as he exclaimed, — 

“ If there isn’t the Woodchuck ! ” 

“Why,” said Roxy, “it’s the blackberry Indian! 
There’s Kyle Wilbur, too, coming to the gate.” 

“Yes, and there’s Hawknose John coming around 


THE WOODCHUCK. 


25 


the turn. See ! He’s trying to catch ujd with the 
Woodchuck.” 

“ He’s the chief, isn’t he ” 

Well, no ; not exactly. He isn’t the head chief. 
The head chief lives in a good house up at the 
Reservation. He wouldn’t pick blackberries, or 
whittle bows and arrows, for anybody.” 

“Piney, did you hear that } ” 

“Why, if the Woodchuck isn’t trying to sing!” 

“He’s funny, isn’t he } ” 

“ Come down to the road, Roxy. I want to see 
Hawknose John.” 

Kyle Wilbur got there about as soon as they did, 
and all three stood at the side of the road. The 
last of the flock of sheep and its drivers had 
disappeared. Along came the Woodchuck, in the 
middle of the road, singing a queer sort of song, 
made up of rough, harsh-sounding words. 

“That’s real old Onondaga, Roxy,” said Piney. 
“It’s Indian. His mouth must be made different 
from yours or mine.” 

“And his ears too,” said Roxy, “or he couldn’t 
know what he’s singing.” 

The Woodchuck was a short, broad, middle-aged 
man ; and he was remarkably ragged and dirty look- 
ing. His face was dark and ugly; and his. long, 
coarse, black hair came down upon his shoulders 
from under all that was left of what must once have 


26 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


been a white man’s high black hat. He had put 
a broad red ribbon around it, and he had stuck a 
feather in the ribbon on one side, and a strip of 
shining tin on the other, so that he was a very gay 
and funny looking old Indian that day, so far as his 
hat went. 

The man who was now catching up with ' the 
Woodchuck so rapidly was a very different sort of 
a person. He was every bit as dark and “ Indian- 
looking ; ” but he was tall and straight and thin, with 
a high, hooked nose that gave his face an almost 
fierce expression. In fact, if Hawknose John had 
lived in the old days, when his tribe was a great 
nation, it is very likely he would have been a notable 
warrior. He looked a good deal like one now, he 
was so stern, and stood so very straight in his 
moccasins. He was very near at last, and he spoke 
a few words to the Woodchuck in harsh, strong, gut- 
tural tones ; and that Indian at once stopped his 
attempt at singing, and stood still. John was evi- 
dently very angry ; but it could not have been about 
the feather or the piece of tin, for he, too, had a wide, 
red ribbon around the straw hat he wore, and he 
had on an old blue swallow-tailed coat with gilt 
buttons. 

‘‘ Is he swearing } ” asked Roxy. 

“ No,” said Kyle Wilbur. Hawknose John 
wouldn’t swear : he’s as good as a deacon. But 


A TEMPERANCE LECTURE. 


27 


anybody can see he^s mad. The Woodchuck’s 
always getting into some sort of scrape.” 

He was in one now, beyond a doubt ; for the tall 
Onondaga raised his long right arm, when he ended 
his rough scolding, and struck him hard upon the 
forehead with his clinched fist. It made a sharp, 
cracking sound as the blow fell ; and over went the 
Woodchuck in the dust, as if he had been a human 
Onondaga Indian ninepin. He was not much hurt, 
however ; for he at once picked himself up, rubbed 
his forehead, and marched off along the north road 
without saying a word. Hawknose John did not 
say a word either, but he pointed in that direction 
threateningly. 

“John,” said Piney, “what made you knock him 
down } He doesn’t belong to you.” 

“ Ugh ! Woodchuck big fool. Drink whiskey. 
Hawknose John good friend. Knock him down 
and send him home. Go home pretty sober 
now. Not throw away any more money for old 
squaw.” 

“Why, John, he wasn’t drunk.” 

“ No ; not much. Little bit. He sell berries for 
old squaw. He promise her he not drink at all. 
Heap lie. Go wicked and drink, just a little. 
Hawknose John knock him down, so he stop right 
there. White man not know enough to do that. 
Indian ! ” 


28 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


*‘Yes/’ said Piney; “but what if he had been a 
real big Indian, and you was only a little one ? ” 

“ Boy ask too much question,” said the tall Onon- 
daga with dignity. “ Got any potatoes } ” 

“Plenty of ’em,” replied Piney. “I say, John, i 
that bow for sale } ” 

Piney had been eying, from the very first, an 
unusually long and handsomely finished bow which 
John had carried in his left hand. It was beauti- 
fully polished, and tapered nicely from the middle 
to its two ends ; but it was likely to require a pretty 
strong arm to bend and use it. John now lifted it 
at arm’s-length, and held it up for the boys to ad- 
mire. He slowly remarked to Piney, — 

“No. No sell him. Plawknose John give him 
away.” 

“ Who did you give it away to } ” asked Kyle 
Wilbur. 

“ Give it to aunt Keziah, so she give Hawknose 
John some potatoes for squaw. No sell bow.” 

“Oh ! ” said Piney, “ that’s it, is it ? It’s just the 
kind of bow she wants.” 

Kyle Wilbur made a good deal of fun about that 
remark, while Piney seized the bow and hurried 
back into the house. 

“Aunt Keziah,” he shouted, “see what a splendid 
present Hawknose John has brought you. It’s just 
the very thing you were wishing for.” 


INDIAAT GIVING. 


29 


‘‘Me, Piney? A present to me? Why, it’s a 
hickory bow ! What a pretty one it is ! But what 
do I want of a hickory bow ? ” 

“ Oh ! you can lend it to me when you’re not using 
it. I’ll take care of it for you. Besides, Hawknose 
John wants you to make him a present of some 
potatoes.” 

“He’s always wanting something. They’re a 
lazy, shiftless, good-for-nothing set of beggars.” 

“ O aunty ! you ought to have seen him knock 
down the Woodchuck, and send him home, just 
because he’d swallowed one drink of whiskey.” 

“ Did he ? Did you see him } ” 

Piney gave the details of John’s queer “temper- 
ance lecture ” very rapidly, and aunt Keziah listened 
with evident interest. 

“ I always said there was something good about 
John,” she remarked, at the end of the story. “ How 
many potatoes does he want ? ” 

“ He didn’t say. He can’t carry a great many all 
the way from here to the Reservation. It’s a splen- 
did bow.” 

“ Well, go and tell him he may have as many as 
he can carry in a sack. New potatoes can’t be had 
yet, and good sound old crops like ours are getting 
scarce and high.” 

It was likely that Hawknose John was aware of 
all that ; and aunt Keziah’s skill in the art of mak- 


30 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


ing potatoes ‘^keep over” was as well known as 
were some of her other wisdoms. She was very 
likely, too, to get good prices for what she sold ; 
and she knew perfectly well that her Indian ac- 
quaintance was much too lazy a man to carry a 
heavy load far in that June weather. 

‘‘Piney’s a good boy,” she said to his mother, 
“ and I like to humor him. Besides, it’s only a few 
potatoes.” 

When the bargain relating to the exchange of 
free gifts was completed with Hawknose John, that 
tall, thin, keen-eyed old “warrior” drew from under 
his blue dress-coat a stout-looking sack. With that 
in his hand, he silently and solemnly followed Piney 
to the barn, and Kyle and Roxy sauntered along 
behind him. 

“Aunt Keziah say ‘have all what can carry,’ 
ugh ! ” he remarked, as- he leaned over the side of 
the potato-bin. Then he began to pick out the best 
ones, and drop them into his bag. 

“Yes, John, you’re only to have as many as you 
can carry.” 

“Good. Ugh. Hawknose John like that. Big 
Indian. Boy like potatoes, ugh } ” 

“ Oh, yes ! I eat ’em.” 

“Good for boy. Eat a heap. John got boy at 
home. Eat all day.” 

Piney began to think there must be some-kind of 


JOHN'S BARGAIN 


31 


famine at the Reservation, as John went steadily on 
at the work of putting potatoes into that bag. He 
did not cease picking up and dropping in until the 
sack was so full that he could hardly tie the mouth 
of it. 

“You can’t carry that,” said Piney. 

“ You see. Hawknose John big Indian. Put 
him right on shoulder.” 

So he did, with some effort ; and he walked out of 
the barn with his load, although it made him stagger 
and waver in his walk. On he went, up the path 
that led through the garden and past the house. 
Aunt Keziah, with some other faces just behind her, 
was looking out of the kitchen-window ; and she 
exclaimed, — 

“ I declare ! Why, he’s taken a good two bushels 
and more. It’ll kill him if he tries it. A dollar 
and a quarter a bushel. All that for a bit of hickory 
wood ! ” 

Hawknose John did not appear to notice anybody 
until he had marched out of the front gate and for 
se^eial rods along the road. Then he carefully 
slipped the bag of potatoes down upon the grass, 
and took a seat beside it. Piney and Kyle and 
Roxy had all followed him, wondering what he 
really meant to do ; and now the former asked, — 

“John, how’ll you ever carry that bag to the 
Reservation ? ” 


32 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


‘‘ Boy ask too much question. My potatoes now. 
Aunt Keziah give big bag full. John carry ’em. 
Wagon come along by and by. Put bag in. Carry 
home to squaw.” 

There was a look of something very much like 
fun upon his dark face as he said all that ; and Kyle 
Wilbur remarked to Piney, — 

“He’s got a big price for his bow anyhow. Your 
aunt Keziah isn’t sharp enough to make trades with 
Indians.” 

“She is with white men, then. I never saw her 
get beaten so badly before. Anyhow, his little 
Indians must have something to eat ; and it’s a 
prime good bow.” 

“ Will you teach me to shoot ” asked Roxy. 

“You may have my old bow. You couldn’t do 
any thing with this one. Wonder where I’ll find a 
good enough string for it } ” 

“An old fiddle-string would be just the thing,” 
said Kyle, “if you could get one long enough.” 

“I’ll do it. That’s so. Nothing else’d be half 
as good.” 

There was no use in watching Hawknose John 
while he waited for his wagon ; and it was plain 
that he had made up his mind not to talk any more 
with a boy that “asked too much question.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

A GRAND ARRIVAL. 

Aunt Keziah Merrill may have been a little 
vexed at finding how large a price Hawknose John 
had made her pay for Piney’s new bow, but she 
was not the woman to say a great deal about such a 
matter. She and his mother admired the bow with 
him ; and the latter hunted up, from an old work- 
bag, a very strong piece of twine for a bow-string. 

“ O mother ! ” exclaimed Piney, as he examined 
it, “ where did you get that } It’s splendid.” 

** I think it’s a piece of one of your uncle Liph’s 
old fishing-lines. It’s been in my bag ever since he 
was here last summer.” 

‘‘I’m glad you never happened to tie up any 
bundle with it.” 

“Well, it did seem a little too good for common 
wrapping-twine.” 

“There isn’t any thing too good to string a bow 
with. I’m glad I’ve got so good a lot of arrows.” 

“ The Woodchuck made them for you, didn’t he ? ” 

33 


34 


AMONG THE LANES. 


“Maybe he did. I can’t just exactly say who 
made ’em. He never works if he can help it. His 
wife may have made the arrows, but he came to sell 
them. That’s the way he does with all the berries 
she picks.” 

“And then,” said Roxy, “Hawknose John makes 
him take the money home to her.” 

“ So he does,” said aunt Keziah. “ I’d rather 
he’d have my potatoes than any other Indian on the 
Reservation.” 

There seemed to be some comfort in being 
over-reached by the right Indian, and she was 
contented. 

Kyle Wilbur had sauntered off to the shore of 
the lake; and it was not long before Piney joined 
him, with his new bow all strung and ready for use. 
He brought with him, also, several long and straight 
and very well-made arrows. Two of these were 
particularly admired by Kyle ; for they had sharp 
steel points, instead of mere blunt wooden heads 
like the others. 

“I say, Piney, it looks just as if you’d set in a 
couple of shoemaker’s pegging-awls, largest size 
you could get,” he said, “and then as if you’d gone 
to work and whittled down the wood all around ’em 
to fit.” 

“That’s just what I did,” said Piney; “but you 
can’t guess, in all day, what I did it for.” 


ARCHERY IN THE WATER. 


35 


“Why, yes, I can. You did it to shoot with, and 
so they’d stick in when you hit any thing.” 

“Yes; well, of course that’s it; but that isn’t 
all.” 

“There ain’t any thing more about ’em that I 
can see ; but they’ll go right in, sure.” 

“Wei], they will. Come on. Get into the boat 
with me now, and I’ll show you.” 

“ Show me what } ” 

“Just you wait a bit. Sit way astern, and paddle 
me along. Don’t make a bit of noise. Go right 
across the flats. I’ll get into the forward end, and 
I’ll show you.” 

“Oh, well!” exclaimed Kyle, “guess I under- 
stand what you’re up to. You’re going for pickerel, 
Indian fashion. I’ve done it half a dozen times, 
only I didn’t get a thing. You won’t either.” 

“ Won’t I I have done it more’n once. Didn’t 
have any such a bow as this is, though.” 

“ I didn’t, and I didn’t have as good an arrow as 
you’ve got. Besides, I can’t begin to shoot as well 
as you can : I ain’t strong enough in my arms.” 

He certainly did not look as if b.is arms could be 
equal to those of Piney Hunter ; but then, that was 
probably no fault of his. He would have been well 
pleased, no doubt, to be every ounce as fat and 
strong as was his schoolmate and nearest neighbor. 
As it was, the bigger and stouter the bow might 


36 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


be, the less would be his chance for doing any thing 
great with it. Piney himself had frankly told his 
mother and aunt Keziah that he must do something 
while he was waiting for uncle Liph and all the 
rest to get there, or he should ‘‘go wild and aunt 
Keziah had replied to him, — 

“ Well, Piney, Roxy and Chub are about as much 
as we can attend to. They’ve both gone wild 
a’ready. The folks from the city’ll get here just as 
early if you go out and row around on the lake for 
a while.” 

So he had taken her advice, and his bow and his 
arrows, and his new idea, and had gone off to see 
what he could do with them. He had made Roxy 
a present of his old bow, and promised to make her 
some arrows for it some day. It was only about 
half the size of the new one, and not very strong. 
She -could bend it a little ; but it was, after all, a 
pretty large plaything for a girl of her size. 

“ I do wish I had some arrows,” she said, after he 
had gone. “ I want to shoot some, now.” 

“I’m just as well pleased you haven’t any just 
now,” said aunt Keziah. “ I haven’t any time to 
be on the lookout for the windows and looking- 
glasses.” 

That was something it might be worth while to 
think of; but Roxy longed for a whole quiver-full 
of arrows, just the same. 


KEEP STILL NOW I 


37 


Meantime, Piney and Kyle floated slowly away 
towards “the flats.” That was a part of the lake 
where the water was quite shallow. You could 
the bottom almost anywhere. In some places it was 
hardly two feet deep. But the scow was a sort of 
boat that was just suited to such navigation : she 
was flat-bottomed, and she could have floated, with 
any load that could have been put into her, over a 
good deal shallower water than that. With only 
those two boys to carry, she needed but a few inches 
to keep her from “grounding.” 

Piney Hunter sat in front, with his bow in his 
hand and his arrow on the string, looking earnestly 
over into the clear water below as the boat glided 
gently on. Now and then he made motions to Kyle 
at the stern to steer in one direction or another, but 
neither of them spoke aloud. Twice the young 
bowman let fly his arrow ; but each time it was 
only to pull it back again by a long string tied to 
the end of it. The second time he was vexed 
enough to exclaim sharply, — 

“ Didn’t hit him ! ” 

“ Guess you’re aiming too high,” said Kyle. 
“You’ve got to shoot way down under ’em. Didn’t 
you know that } ” 

“Yes, I know that. The water makes ’em look 
higher up than they really are. Maybe that’s it 
I don’t send it in low enough down.” 


38 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


'‘That ain’t all,” said Kyle. “I know. The 
water makes the arrow glance up a little. I didn’t 
hit the first fish, and I shot at any number of ’em.” 

" I’ll try it on again. Hush, now ! There’s a big 
one, — biggest kind. Slow, now, slow.” 

Whether that pickerel was taking an afternoon 
nap, or whether he was only watching for flies, and 
was too lazy to move away for any thing else, there 
he lay, only a few inches below the surface, until 
the scow crept slyly along almost over him, and 
within capital shooting distance. 

Piney held his breath for a moment, and then he 
drew his arrow almost to the head. It seemed to 
him that it must go away down below the fish, and 
miss him ; but he was determined to try the experi- 
ment, and he let fly. 

“Twang!” went the bow, and there was hardly a 
spatter in the water as the arrow darted through it. 
Then there was instantly a very great spatter — a 
regular splash — as the stricken pickerel sprang to 
the surface. 

“ Hurrah I ” shouted Kyle. “You’ve hit him this 
time, sure.” 

“ Plurrah ! ” shouted Piney in his turn. “ That’s 
the way the Indians used to do. Hawknose John 
told me so himself.” 

“ What made you let go of your string, Piney } 
Now you can’t pull him in.” 


OVERBOARD ! 


39 


*'Why, you couldn’t pull him in that way. Don’t 
you see } There’s a shingle float at the end of the 
strins: on the arrow. He can’t swim much with 
that tagging to him. Oh, but don’t I wish I had a 
landing-net ! ” 

“ Or a gaff-spear,” said Kyle. ‘‘That’d do it. He 
keeps coming out on top of the water.” 

“Paddle along after him, Kyle. We’ll get him. 
Isn’t he a big fellow, though ” 

“A perfect whopper. There, you hit him on the 
nose. Hit him again.” 

“That’s what I meant to do,” said Piney, as he 
put down the oar he had been striking with. “A 
little farther, — now I’ve got him.” 

He thought he had ; and he was reaching over 
after his fish, when Kyle, who was as much excited 
as Piney, and perhaps a little more, gave a sudden 
dig with his paddle, and made the boat swing quickly 
in the wrong direction. In a second of time the 
young pickerel-shooter was floundering in the water 
He went clean out of sight under the surface ; but 
he came up again sputtering triumphantly, — 

“ I’ve got him ! It isn’t deep. Push along, Kyle, 
and let me pitch him in. He’s only a little stunned, 
and he’s getting ready to flop again.” 

Piney had grasped the arrow on both sides of the 
fish, close up to the body. It had gone through him 
a little behind his shoulders, so that it had been 


40 


AMONG THE LANES. 


aimed exactly right instead of too low. Piney pulled 
it out as he dropped his prize into the boat. The 
water was about up to his waist just there; and he 
followed his fish into the scow with no difficulty at 
all, and with no harm but a complete ducking. 

“ What a splendid pickerel ! Why, Kyle, that 
fellow must weigh pretty near four pounds.” 

‘‘Biggest one anybody’s caught in this lake for 
ever so long,” said Kyle. “Wouldn’t I like to try 
my luck just for once ! ” 

“ Of course you can some day, — most any time. 
But just look at me now, and all that company com- 
ing to our house. I say, Kyle, isn’t that a carriage 
there, coming up the south road ? ” 

“Looks like one. Guess it must be your uncle 
and his folks.” 

“ Let’s pull for home, then. Oh, dear me ! I 
sha’n’t have time to change my clothes. I don’t 
care for that, though : I’ve got that big pickerel.” 

There he lay on the bottom of the boat ; and it 
was a comfort to a wet boy to only look at him, for 
he had not yet decided to be quiet and not flop 
any more. Piney took an oar, and they both rowed 
their very best. It was not that they had so very 
far to go, but then the carriage in the road could 
travel a great deal faster than the scow could in 
the water ; and, when the latter was pulled in at the 
landing, the former was almost at the gate. 


HERE THEY ARE I 


41 


The gate was already wide open ; and there by it 
were Piney Hunter’s mother and j.unt Keziah, and 
Roxy and Chub, and even Ann the hired help ; 
that is, Roxy was outside of the gate, Ann and 
Chub were in it, and the rest were stringing out 
across the piazza and down the steps, when the car- 
riage halted. One of the farm-hands had been out 
there for half an hour, waiting to be ready to take 
care of the baggage and the horses. 

‘^Of course it’s only a hired carriage,” aunt 
Keziah had said ; “ but then, you know, horses must 
rest after such a drive, and they’ve got to eat and 
drink.” 

All her own horses were well taken care of, as 
everybody knew ; and she was a kindly woman as 
well as wise. 

The carriage drew up in front of the gate, and a 
boy of about Piney’s age instantly sprang down from 
his seat beside the driver. He was as tall as Piney, 
and much more nicely dressed ; but he was nothing 
like so plump and rosy. He was hardly down upon 
the grass before the carriage-door opened, and a 
tall, smiling-faced gentleman stepped out, just as 
Roxy began to shout, — 

Uncle Liph! Aunt Sarah ! Cousin Bi! Where 
are Mary and Susie ? ” 

‘'They are all here,” merrily remarked uncle 
Liph as he helped out a portly, motherly-looking 


42 


AMONG THE LANES. 


woman, who at once caught up Roxy in her arms. 
Then came a young lady who got out without any 
help, and turned around to look out for the safe 
landing of a little girl who was half a head taller 
than Roxy. 

That little girl was plainly the visitor aunt Keziah 
had been especially looking for; and she did not 
speak a word to any one else until she had said 
“My little Susie!” half a dozen times, with nobody 
counted how many kisses. There were kisses and 
hand-shakings, and a sort of hubbub. So many 
things were being said, that it was of no sort of use 
to try and ask or answer any thing just then; but 
now a deep, strong voice from the carriage ex- 
claimed, — 

“Well, am I forgotten } ” 

“ Grandpa I Grandpa ! ” screamed Roxy. “ Oh, 
how nice ! We didn’t guess you were coming. 
Where’s grandma } Did she come too ? ” 

“She’s gone to Boston, but I’ve come to see 
Roxy and Chub.” 

Even while he was speaking, a very fine-looking 
old gentleman, with silver-gray hair, came a little 
slowly out of the carriage. He seemed to be slight- 
ly lame in one foot, but otherwise in excellent health 
and spirits. 

“ How did you all manage to pack into one car- 
riage .? ” inquired aunt Keziah. 


A VERY WET BOY. 


43 


''Oh ! Susie carried me” said grandpa, just as Bi 
asked, — 

" But where is cousin Richard ? ” 

" Piney ? ” said aunt Keziah. " Oh ! he got tired 
of waiting, and went out on the lake for a row. 
He’ll come.” 

" There he comes now,” shouted Roxy. 

"He’s cornin’,” added Chub, "and he’s dot a fis’.” 

" He must have been diving for it, I should say,” 
remarked uncle Liph. "What a looking boy ! ” 

" Bayard,” said aunt Sarah, " there’s your cousin 
Richard.” 

There he was indeed, half out of breath with 
haste, his loose clothes clinging to him with the 
wetting they had had, holding his big pickerel by the 
gills with one hand, while he carried his success- 
ful bow and arrows in the other. His face, more- 
over, had never looked a shade redder than it did at 
that moment ; and his dark eyes were sparkling with 
fun, and with the pleasure he felt at seeing his friends. 

" Piney,” said uncle Liph, " you’re a trump ! But 
where did you get that pickerel ? ” 

"Shot him with an arrow first, and then Kyle 
Wilbur tipped me into the lake to catch him. I 
got him, though.” 

"So you did, and he’s a fine one. — Bayard, my 
boy. I’d like to see you do a thing like that, clothes 
or no clothes.” 


44 


AMONG 7NE LANES. 


*‘Bi” looked as if he hardly knew which to shake 
hands with first, his cousin, or the big fish ; but 
Piney was almost compelled to say to Susie, — 

“No, Susie. Hold on. You mustn’t hug me 
now, — not till I’m dry and clean again. Hug Chub 
for me : he’s dry.” 

Yes ; but Chub felt that he had already been 
hugged enough for that time. He had even es- 
caped from his grandfather ; and he was now walk- 
ing around and around his big brother, staring hard 
at the pickerel, the bow and the arrows, and the 
dripping clothes. It was not the first time that that 
suit had been in the water, and they had never been 
of the same cut and style with that now worn by 
cousin “ Bi.” 

Piney cut a somewhat comical figure, perhaps ; but 
his mother blushed with pleasure when she heard 
cousin Mary Hunter whisper to grandfather and 
aunt Sarah at the gate, — 

“ What a really splendid-looking boy he is grow- 
ing to be ! ” 

She probably did not refer to the wet clothing, or 
to the bit of eel-grass that still was sticking to one 
of his shirt-buttons. 


CHAPTER V. 


THE CURIOSITY-SHOP. 

When grandfather Hunter and uncle Liph and 
the rest came to visit at the farmhouse by the lake 
they left a home of their own behind them. It was 
a particularly pleasant and commodious home. The 
house was large and square, with a front twice as 
wide as most city houses have room for. In fact, it 
was not in the great city itself, but out at one end 
of it, where the houses were not built so closely 
together. Uncle Liph’s house had even a good deal 
of ground around it, with trees and shrubbery. 
The outside was handsome enough to satisfy any 
reasonable person, and was calculated to lead people 
to expect good things of the inside. When, how- 
ever, any one got in at the front door, it was easy 
to discover at once that that house was furnished 
somewhat differently from the homes of most people. 
The chairs and tables, indeed, were a good deal like 
those of other folk, and were nice enough ; but 
somehow not many of them seemed to be very new. 


46 


AMONG THE LAKES, 


They looked, rather, as if they had been made evef 
so long ago, and had been taken excellent care of. 
The great hat-rack in the hall, near the front door, 
was made of the branching antlers of moose and 
elk and deer, put together upon a mahogany frame. 
It was very extraordinary, but it answered exceed- 
ingly well to hang hats and coats on. There was a 
great head of a moose, antlers and all, as natural as 
life, right in the middle of it. 

Over the door leading into the front parlor, on 
the left of the hall, was a stuffed eagle with wide- 
spread wings ; and right opposite him, over another 
door that led into a reading-room, was a large white 
owl, beautifully stuffed, and sitting so still as to 
show that he sat in no fear at all of the eagle. 

The farther you might choose to go, in wandering 
around that house, the more you would be sure to 
see of queer and unusual things and matters which 
seemed to call for some sort of explanation. 

A suit of ancient armor, which almost seemed to 
have a man in it, stood leaning upon a spear at the 
back-parlor entrance ; but nobody had ever seen the 
iron warrior stop people as they were going in or 
coming out. 

There was a very good explanation of it all. 
Uncle Liph was what is called an “antiquarian;” 
and so, after his own peculiar fashion, was Grand- 
father Hunter. That is, they were fond of knowing 


ANTIQUITIES, 


47 


about the ways and doings of people who lived in 
the old times, ever so long ago. They were curious 
as to how those people lived and worked, and talked 
and dressed, and especially how they made war, and 
what kinds of weapons they used in their hunting 
and their fighting. 

So, too, they liked old-time furniture, if it were 
good and serviceable, much better than new furni- 
ture ; and once, when a man asked uncle Liph what 
there was ancient ” about a pair of deer-horns, he 
said, — 

‘‘Ancient.? Why, the oldest deer in the world 
wore a pair. They wore them in Noah’s ark. 
There’s nothing modern about horns.” 

That summer afternoon, at the time when Piney 
Hunter was shooting his big pickerel, the great 
square house in the edge of the city had an empty 
and deserted look ; but it was not at all empty, and 
it was not entirely deserted. All the queer old 
things of every kind were there ; and uncle Liph 
would never have dreamed of going away and leav- 
ing his carefully gathered treasures to take care of 
themselves, — no, not for so much as one single 
night. He had therefore said to his trusty hired 
man, Terence McGonegal, — 

“Now, Terry, my boy, you must keep a sharp 
lookout. I don’t want to find that my big eagle 
flew away while I was gone.” And Terry had 
calmly responded, — 


48 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


** ’Dade, yer honor, it’s a quiet sort of bird he is. 
I’ve no fear of him at all, sor. But I’ll not slape 
in the librarhy, wid all thim owld conthraptions 
round me. Sure an’ they’d make me dhrame of 
owld Brian Boru and the Danes.” 

*‘You needn’t sleep at all, Terry. It isn’t that 
I’m afraid of. If you and Fanny will only keep 
awake all the time I’m gone, the house won’t be 
run away with.” 

‘‘ I’ll answer for the house, yer honor ; and I pity 
the man that thries to run away wid Fanny.” 

Fanny was the cook ; and if any one had but 
looked at her that afternoon, standing in the library 
with Terry while he talked to her about uncle Liph’s 
treasures, he would also have been ready to pity the 
man who should have to carry her very far. Hawk- 
nose John’s bag of potatoes was nothing at all to 
such a load as Fanny the cook would have been. 
Still, if she was remarkably tall and stout, she was 
by no means inclined to be lazy ; and that, too, 
might have made it yet more difficult to steal her 
out of the house. It was really surprising, at times, 
to see how rapidly she moved around, especially 
when she was in the kitchen, and it was nearly time 
for dinner to be put upon the. table. Just now she 
was standing still enough. She had seen all that 
antiquarian show before, a great many times ; but it 
was a sort of treat to be there, with Terry for show- 


IRON CLOTHES. 


49 


man, and to have the whole affair to themselves for 
all the world as if they owned it. 

“ They wore thim, did they 1 ” she asked, pointing 
to some pieces of old armor that hung against a 
book-case. 

“ Is it did they wear thim ? What else, then ? 
Sure, an’ it was all the clothes they had in thim 
days.” 

I’m glad I didn’t live in thim days, then. 
How’d you like it yourself, Mr. Terence McGonegal, 
to have a blacksmith for a tailor ? Did they nail 
’em on ? ” 

“ Was they horses ? ” asked Terry scornfully. 
** No, indade ! Thim iron clothes was all put to- 
gether wid rivets and bolts and screws, and then 
the men that was to wear ’em crept into ’em and 
stood up.” 

“ Was that it ? And what did the women wear. 
I’d like to know? Was their clothes made of 
tin ? ” 

Ye’d betther ask Misther Hoonter himself about 
that. Mebbe they did ; but I’m thinking they didn’t 
cost so much tin to clothe ’em then as they do 
now.” 

“ Sure, an’ I’ve earned and paid for all that’s on 
me, Mr. McGonegal.” 

Terence and Fanny had a great deal more to see 
and say ; for uncle Liph’s library was a very large 


50 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


room with many things in it. Piney Hunter had 
been dreaming of it during the whole past year, and 
longing for just such a chance at it as Fanny and 
Terence were blessed with that summer day. He 
was almost ready to envy his cousin Bayard the 
privilege he enjoyed, all the while, of going in when 
ever he chose to look into any of those wonderful 
books of all sorts of pictures, and at all those mar- 
vellous curiosities. He had dreamed of them when 
he was wide awake, a good deal ; and, what was even 
more remarkable for so very healthy and sound-sleep- 
ing a boy, he had actually dreamed of them when he 
was asleep. 

As soon as the new-comers at the farm could be 
led into the house, and their baggage had been car- 
ried up to their rooms, Piney set about the good 
work of making himself “ look nice ” again. He 
and Bi were to room together, and they went up 
stairs at once. The city boy’s clothes were not 
wet ; but, in his opinion, they were dusty enough to 
need changing almost as badly as did Piney ’s. All 
the while they were busy at their changes, Piney 
kept up a steady stream of questions about the 
antiquarian collection.” 

** Is it all there yet } ” 

“All of it. Father keeps all he gets, if he makes 
up his mind that it’s worth keeping. Sometimes he 
has things sent to him that don’t turn out to be just 


DAVID AND GCL/ATN, 


51 


what they seemed to be. He’s found ever so many 
new things, though, since you were there.” 

“ New things ? ” 

‘‘Well, yes; I mean old things, — old things that 
he didn’t have before. He had ever so many sent 
over to him from Europe. I guess you’d like to 
see some of them.” 

“ From Europe ! ” exclaimed Piney, with deep re- 
spect in his voice. “ Armor ? shields and swords 
and helmets, and all that } ” 

“All kinds of weapons. Grandfather tried to 
make me believe one of the biggest swords was the 
one David killed Goliath with. If I hadn’t known 
better ” — 

“Well, how did you know.? You wasn’t there.” 

“ Wasn’t where .? ” 

“There when David killed Goliath.” 

“No, nor that sword wasn’t either; but it was 
big enough. I found out all about it. It was an 
old German sword, — very old. They had to swing 
it with both hands. But that wasn’t all. I’ll tell 
you what grandfather did.” 

“What did he do?” 

“He made a sling — a big one — like what he 
said David must have used. Maybe it was, but 
I don’t believe you or I could sling a stone with 
it.” 

“Bi, just you show me how that sling was made. 


52 


AMONG THE LANES. 


ril make one like it, and we’ll practise with it at a 
mark. They had bows and arrows too.” 

“Yes; but I guess they didn’t go a-fishing with 
’em.” 

“ How do you know they didn’t } ” 

“Never heard of it.” 

“Our Indians did, then. Old Hawknose John 
told me.” 

“ And that’s the way you killed your big pickerel ? 
Who is Hawknose John } ” 

“ He’s an Onondaga Indian from the Reservation. 
He’s a kind of chief. He made my bow.” 

“ Did he ? How much did you you pay him 
for it.?” 

“ Pay him ? . Oh, he gave it to me ; that is, he 
gave it Indian fashion, — he gave me the bow, and 
then he made aunt Keziah make him a present of a 
sack of potatoes.” 

Piney told the whole story, and Bi laughed ; but 
he said, — 

“He isn’t much like the Indian chiefs Cooper 
tells about in his novels.” 

“ I don’t know about that. He’s a good sort of 
an Indian. In those days they’d have come and 
helped themselves to all the potatoes in the bin, 
without so much as asking.” 

“ No, indeed ; I guess they wouldn’t,” said Bayard 
indignantly. “ The Indian chiefs were like the old 


LAND PICKEREL. 


53 


knights I’ve been reading about ; only they didn’t 
wear armor, or ride horses.” 

“I guess they were,” said Piney. ‘Tve been 
reading a good deal about them too. Aunt Keziah 
says all those old knights were great thieves : they 
stole every thing they could lay their hands on. 
She knows.” 

Oh, well ! ” said Bi, that was in war.” 

“Yes, I guess it was; and they called it war all 
the time. It was just so with the Indipns. I’ll tell 
you what I think, Bi.” 

“What’s that 

“The old knights that wore armor, and the old 
Indian chiefs that didn’t have any to wear, were a 
kind of pickerel.” 

“ Pickerel } What do you mean ? ” 

“Why, don’t you know.^* That’s a fish that gets* 
his living by eating up all the smaller fish that come 
in his way. Aunt Keziah says, that, every time I 
catch a pickerel, I give ten thousand little fish a 
better chance to grow up and get an education.” 

“ Then, that big one you shot must have swallowed 
ever so many.” 

“ Piles of ’em. Now he’ll be eaten in his turn. 
Serves him right.” 

“If he’d only had armor on, you’d never have 
killed him.” 

“ Perhaps not. I might have stunned him with a 


54 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


sling and a stone, as David did Goliath, and then 
cut his head off.” 

“ Not in the water,” said Bi. 

Just then they heard aunt Sarah, at the kitchen 
door below, exclaiming, — 

“ Keziah, where are the children } ” 

** Roxy took them out on the lawn.” 

‘‘ On the lawn I do not see them. O Keziah, 
they are all out there in the boat ! All of them, — 
Roxy and Susie and Chub.” 

“Just like her!” exclaimed aunt Keziah, as she 
ran to the foot of the stairs ; and then she called, — 
“ Piney ! Piney ! Hurry down to the lake. The 
children are all out in the boat.” 

“What can they be doing?” asked Bayard of 
Piney. 

“ Doing ? Wait a moment.” 

“ Well, what are you doing ? ” 

“.Going for my old clothes. I don’t want to wet 
a fresh lot. These are my Sunday best.” 

“You’re getting ’em off double-quick, anyhow,” 
said Bi ; and that was precisely what Piney Hunte^ 
was doing. 


CHAPTER VI. 

PINEY TO THE RESCUE I 

The first thing aunt Sarah had done, on getting 
to her room, had been to give Susie’s very eager but 
somewhat dusty little face a good washing. It was 
not easy to do any more for her in the way of ^‘fix- 
ing up,” as she called it, with Roxy and Chub in the 
room, in such a fever to show their city cousin the 
whole country at once. 

“Roxy,” said Susie, as she got her mouth away 
from under the towel, “do aunt Lizzie and aunt 
Keziah make you always keep your face clean } ” 

“No, I guess they don’t,” said Roxy. “It’s 
always clean. I wash it my own self. I’ll show 
you. It never gets very dirty, ’cept when I go for 
berries.” 

Are there lots of berries ? ” 

“Yes, sometimes. Berry-stains don’t come off 
easy, — not even with soap. Won’t we pick ’em 
though ! ” 

“ Mother ” said Susie, “ may I ? ” 


55 


56 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


“Of course you may. You may get them on your 
face and hands too, but you must be careful of your 
dress and your apron.” 

“That’s just what aunt Keziah says to me,” re^ 
marked Roxy, with a very wise face. “ Berries are 
very bad for aprons.” 

“I like berries,” said Chub. “Roxy put salt in 
’em.” 

“ Did Roxy salt your berries for you } ” laughed 
aunt Sarah. 

“ So I did,” said Roxy ; “ but then the salt-box 
and the sugar-box are just alike. You can’t tell ’em 
apart unless you taste ’em.” 

“ Didn’t you taste and see } ” 

“No, I didn’t ; and I put on ever so much. Then 
I had to go and pick some more berries before I 
had any breakfast.” 

“I declare! I must make your mother tell me 
about that. — Now, Susie, you may go. Keep out 
of mischief. You may play till tea-time.” 

“ Won’t that be splendid I ” exclaimed Susie. 
“Roxy, your folks don’t have tea till it’s ever so 
late, do they ? ” 

“No, they don’t,” said Roxy; “but then, when 
it’s ’most time, I’ll have to come in and help aunt 
Keziah and Ann. There’s a good many people to 
look out for, now you’ve all come.” 

Aunt Sarah laughed aloud as Roxy said that ; and 


TURRETS THE LAKE 


57 


she hurried them out of the room, with another cau- 
tion about getting into mischief. Roxy thought her 
aunt must know very little about the country, or 
she would never have said that. She was entirely 
sure that Susie would be perfectly safe with her and 
Chub ; and she led them down-stairs, and out upon 
the lawn. 

“That’s our lawn,” she said proudly, as she 
pointed all over it. “ That’s where we play croquet. 
We had two cows there, and a calf, once. The calf 
bunted me right over on my back. Kyle Wilbur 
ran after him ’most down to the lake, and pounded 
him ; but aunt Keziah said it served me right.” 

“Why, it was dreadful!” exclaimed Susie. “He 
might have bit you ” 

“ No : calves don’t bite. I tickled his nose with 
a straw, to see if he could laugh. That’s what he 
bunted me down for. Isn’t it beautiful grass.?” 

“ Be-a-u-tiful 1 ” 

“ And there’s a whole tubful of pinies around in 
front of the piazza; and there’s roses and s’ringa 
flowers, and myrtle, and violets, and pansies, and 
dahlias, and tiger-lilies, and — and — and there’s the 
lake, too. Susie, let’s all go down and see the 
boat.” 

Roxy was sure she would remember the names 
of all the other flowers, after a while ; but some of 
them did not come to her mind at once. It was 


S8 


AMONG THE LANES. 


easier to show the lake and the boat, to begin with ; 
and Susie had been looking in that direction even 
while Roxy pointed at the tub of peonies. She was 
in ecstasies about the boat the moment they reached 
the landing. 

‘‘It’s a beautiful boat,” she said; ‘'and it swims 
splendidly.” 

That’s what it’s made for,” said Roxy. “ Piney 
P.nd Kyle Wilbur go a-fishing in it everywhere. You 
can’t tip it over.” 

“ Won’t it tip at all ? ” 

“No : it’s a real strong good boat.” 

“ It’s Piney’s boat,” said Chub. 

Roxy had stooped, and pulled upon the chain ; and 
now she brought the scow close to the edge of the 
wooden platform which aunt Keziah had had built 
for a landing. Chub at once clambered in ; for he 
had sailed in that boat a number of times, and was 
not in the least afraid of any thing it might do. 
Susie wished ever so much that she dared follow 
him ; but she hesitated until Roxy shouted, — 

“Jump right in, Susie. I’ll row you all over the 
lake.” 

Susie was aware that she was only a city-girl, and 
she thought it must be all right if Roxy said so ; 
for the lake and the boat seemed to belong to the 
farmhouse as much as any other part of it. Besides,. 
Roxy was a good deal younger, — more than two 


EASY ROWING. 


59 


whole years, — and she did not exactly like to seem 
to be timid. Her pride helped her ; and she stepped 
cautiously in, and sat carefully down upon one of 
the middle seats. 

‘‘ There’s some water in the bottom of the boat ! ” 
she exclaimed. 

“Oh!” said Roxy, “that’s nothing. It won’t do 
to let the boat get too dry. Piney told me so. He 
lets it leak a little all the while.” 

Roxy was busy with the chain, wUicli was merely 
hooked to a staple in a stout post ; and now she got 
it loose. She seated herself very complacently at 
that end, and gave the hitching-post a push that 
sent the scow away from the landing handsomely. 

“ O Roxy, we’re all a-floating I ” 

“Of course we are,” said Roxy, with a tone of 
perfect confidence. “Now I must take the oars, 
and I’ll row you. I can row ’most as well as Piney 
can.” 

“ But where are the oars ? ” asked Susie. “ I can’t 
see any.” 

“ The oars ? Why, yes ; I’d like to know. O 
cousin Susie! There they are, — up there on the 
bank beyond the landing.” 

“You can’t row without oars.” 

“Somebody’s gone and took them out of the 
boat.” 

That was exactly the truth of the matter. Kyle 


6o 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


Wilbur had done it when he and Piney came back 
with their big pickerel. Now the whole party were 
quite a little distance from the shore ; and Susie 
began to wish she never had seen either the lake 
itself, or the beautiful old scow. 

“ O Roxy ! Do you think we shall be drowned } ” 

‘‘No, indeed. Not so long as we stay in the 
boat. It’s only people that tumble into the water 
that ever get drowned. Piney says nobody’ll ever 
be drowned if they’ll keep out of the water.” 

I wish Piney were here.” 

‘‘Oh ! he’ll come. Don’t you be afraid : I ain’t.” 

“I ain’t af’aid,” said Chub. “It’s Piney’s boat. 
He boated me ’way ac’oss the lake once.” 

With that, Chub leaned over the gunwale of the 
scow in a way that made his sister catch hold of his 
frock, and exclaim, — 

“Chub! Chub! You must sit still. If you ain’t 
careful, you’ll make the boat rock, and scare Susie.” 

It was just at that moment that Piney heard aunt 
Keziah calling to him from the foot of the stairs. 
He understood the whole affair in a twinkling, after 
one glance through his window ; and it was wonder- 
ful how quickly he was out upon the grass, with 
nothing on him but a dry shirt and a wet pair of 
trousers. 

“Won’t you hurt your feet.?” asked Bi, as he 
followed him. 


DRIFTING AWAY. 


6l 


‘‘Hurt ’em? No, of course not, — not on this 
grass. You wouldn’t have me put on shoes and 
stockings to swim in, would you ? ” 

‘‘ I should say not. Do you think you’ll have to 
swim ? ” 

“ Guess I will. Come on, Bi.” 

By this time aunt Keziah, with Piney’s mother 
and Susie’s, and cousin Mary, and even grandfather 
Hunter and uncle Liph, were all hurrying down 
towards the boat-landing. 

Oh, those children ! ” exclaimed aunt Sarah. 
“ What can we do ! What will become of them ? ” 
The scow was rapidly drifting out into the lake, 
at all events, driven by a light wind that blew off 
shore ; and there was no other boat to be had. 

‘Ms the water very deep?” asked uncle Liph 
anxiously. 

“It’s pretty deep around here,” replied aunt 
Keziah ; and then she shouted to the children, — 

“ Sit still, all of you ! Sit still ! ” 

Susie was almost ready to cry when she saw her 
mother and the rest come running down to the 
shore ; and she sat as still as a mouse. Chub, how- 
ever, took a different view of the matter, and was 
playing over the side of the boat with his new straw 
hat in the water; and Roxy had not lost an inch 
of her courage and confidence. She was a very little 
paler than common ; but she said several times, — 


62 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


‘‘ It’s all right, Susie. This isn’t any thing. 
Piney’s coming.” 

“I wish he’d come,” whimpered poor Susie; for 
she understood that the grown-up people were get- 
ting frightened about them, although she could not 
clearly see that they were in immediate danger. 

Piney was coming, with Bi close behind him. He 
came, the last three or four rods, on a sharp run ; 
and he chuckled with delight as he sprang from the 
landing into the warm, clear, splashing water. 

It’s only a good swim, uncle Liph,” he shouted, 
as he struck out vigorously. “I’ll tow them all 
right in. It’s just fun.” 

“ That’s all it is to him,” said aunt Keziah proud- 
ly. “ He can swim across the lake.” 

“Do you hear that, Bayard.?” said his mother. 
“You can swim, but I’m afraid Richard could beat 
you. You must practise.” 

“He can practise everyday,” said Bi. “There’s 
no lake at our house.” 

“And we can’t afford to have one made,” re- 
marked his father. “How that youngster does go 
through the water ! I declare ! ” 

“Piney’s cornin’,” laughed Chub, in great glee. 
“ He’s s’immin’. See Piney s’im ! ” 

“ O Roxy ! ” exclaimed Susie. “ He won’t be 
drowned, will he .? ” 

“No, indeed he won’t,” said Roxy. “Piney 


RESCUED. 63 

learned to swim ever so long ago, — before he ever 
went into the water. He won’t be drowned..” 

There was reason to doubt a part of that asser- 
tion ; but Roxy’s confidence in her big brother was 
almost unbounded, and her little face grew serene 
and smiling as he came nearer and nearer. 

‘‘O Piney ! ” she said, “why didn’t you bring the 
oars } Then I could have rowed the boat.” 

“Oh!” replied Piney, “you can row almost as 
well without them. Sit still, all of you. I’ll take 
you safe ashore.” 

It was easy enough to turn the head of the scow 
towards the landing, and to shove her along over 
the water. Even Susie began to think it was a 
very nice piece of fun, and Chub laughed and 
shouted at the top of his voice. As for Roxy, a 
sober thought began to creep into her mind as to 
what she should say to her mother and aunt Keziah ; 
and she did not utter a word until they reached the 
landing. 

“Here they are,” said Piney, as he shoved the 
scow up to its post, and hooked the chain to the 
staple. “I guess I’d better put the padlock on, so 
she’ll stay at home.” 

“I’ll never do it again,” said Roxy. “I just 
wanted to teach Susie how to row the boat.” 

“And so you didn’t take any oars,” said grand- 
father Hunter. 


64 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


Piney’s mother caught Chub in her arms, and 
aunt Sarah was hugging Susie ; and poor Roxy 
looked so crestfallen and sorry, that aunt Keziah 
said to her, — 

“Come, dear, get out of the boat. You’re a 
naughty girl, but I won’t scold you. You and Susie 
may go to the garden, and pick some strawberries 
for supper. Ain’t you glad Piney was at home ? ” 

“ Oh, well, aunt Keziah, Piney always comes just 
in time ! ” 

“ After all,” said uncle Liph, “ it’s a good sort of 
lesson. Bayard, you must go in swimming every 
day while you’re here. I’d like to see you out-swim 
Richard.” 

“He’ll never learn with his clothes on,” said 
Piney merrily. “ Now I guess I’ll go and change 
mine. It’s the best kind of fun though.” 

“Yes,” said Bi doubtfully; “but you’re £bout the 
wettest boy ever I saw.” 


CHAPTER VII. 


KYLE WILBUR. 

PiNEY hurried away into the house to put on 
his other clothes, and Roxy’s mother scolded 
her a little before she let her go with Susie and 
aunt Keziah to the kitchen after their strawberry- 
baskets. 

Grandfather Hunter was pretty tired after his 
long ride, especially as he had hurried a good deal, 
for him, when he heard the outcry about the chil- 
dren : so he and uncle Liph went out and sat 
down upon the front piazza. As for aunt Sarah 
and Mary, they set out for a walk along the lake- 
shore, and carried Chub with them ; so that Bayard 
was left alone for a little while. He stood for a 
few minutes, looking at the boat. Then he threw 
a stone as far as he could into the water, and said 
to himself, — 

“I wonder how far cousin Richard could throw 
a stone ; that is, without a sling, or any thing like 
that. There isn’t any chance to throw stones in 

65 


66 


AMONG THE LAKES, 


the city, no more than there is to swim. They 
haven’t got every thing out here though.” 

Then he looked all over himself. There was no 
denying that he was a much better-dressed and 
neater-looking boy than Piney Hunter ; considering, 
especially, also the fact that he was entirely dry 
from head to foot. It is not easy for any boy to 
give up that another boy is really his superior in 
any way, and Bayard Hunter had not been used to 
having a small opinion of himself. He turned away 
from the shore, and sauntered across the lawn. 

“It’s a pretty place,” he said; “but our house is 
ever so much bigger. We have trees too, and some 
of them are as big as some of these. What a heap 
of peonies! Aunt Keziah called them ‘pinies.’ I 
wouldn’t care to be as red in the face and as fat as 
cousin Richard. I don’t believe he can talk French, 
or play the piano. He can swim, but I’m ready 
for college in every thing but Greek. I don’t be- 
lieve he ever saw a Greek book, or a Latin one 
either. I’ll swim though, every chance I get ; and 
I’ll catch pickerel. There’ll be good fun in all that, 
but a fellow can’t learn much out in a country place 
like this.” 

Bayard did not know, or he may have forgotten, 
that there was an academy at the village, only a 
mile and a half away, and that the people of Parable 
Centre believed their academy to be “ a truly great 


ANOTHER BOY COMING. 


67 


institution.” If he had known all that, he might 
not have felt so sure of being so far ahead of his 
cousin in all those things. It was very likely, how- 
ever, that he was at least half way right ; and he 
comforted himself in that way as he leaned over 
the front gate, and looked down the road. There 
was a boy coming along just then from the other 
way ; and the first that Bayard knew of it was, — 

“ Hullo ! ” 

“ Hullo ! ” said Bayard, as he turned around and 
looked at the new-comer; and he could not help 
saying to himself, “ If cousin Richard is too fat, 
this fellow’s as thin as a chicken. What a peaked 
face!” 

say, are you Piney Hunter’s cousin from the 
city.?” 

“ Yes. My name is Bayard Hunter. Richard is 
my cousin:” 

'^Yes, that’s his name. Only we all call him 
Piney. Is that the kind of hat they wear in the 
city .? ” 

“Well, yes : it’s my hat.” 

“ I guessed it was. I’m Kyle Wilbur. I live in 
that house over yonder. Our farm jines onto aunt 
Keziah’s. Have you heard Piney speak his piece .? ” 

“ Speak his piece ? ” 

“Yes; for the ’cademy exhibition. If he doesn’t 
forget the last half of it, he’ll do it up tip-top. 


68 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


Don’t you wish you was as good-lookin’ a feller as 
he is ? ” 

** Call him good-looking ? ” 

I’d say so. I’d give any thing to weigh what he 
does. Did you see the pickerel he killed ? ” 

‘‘With his bow and arrow .? Yes, I saw that.” 

“ It’s a big one, isn’t it ? Tell you what ! I 
helped him do that. I paddled the boat. You 
ought to have seen him go over in. But he never 
let go of that pickerel. He’d have got away from a 
feller like you in a jiffy.” 

“ Could you have caught him ? ” 

“Course I could, if I’d have shot him, and got a 
good hold on him. That’s the trouble. Piney 
always seems to get a good hold when he goes for 
any thing.” 

“ Does he ” asked Bayard. 

“Yes, he does. How long be you and your folks . 
going to stay here } ” 

“ Oh ! I don’t know. A good while.” 

“Hope you will. Piney’s just the kind of feller 
I’d like to visit with, specially if I’d been brought 
up in the city, and didn’t know much. I’ll see you 
ag’in. I’m going to the village now. If you go 
after Piney’s cows with him, you just look sharp 
after that brindled heifer of his’n. She doesn’t take 
kindly to strangers.” 

So saying, Kyle Wilbur shut his mouth hard, as 


WHA T’S IN A NAME ? 


69 


if to keep himself by main strength from talking 
any more, and hurried away down the road. Bi 
stood and watched him for a moment ; but just then 
he heard a smothered laugh behind him, and he 
turned quickly around. 

Father ! ” he exclaimed, ‘‘did you ever hear any- 
body talk like that ? ” 

“Not exactly, I must say. But I am inclined to 
think he is right in having a good opinion of your 
cousin Richard. He is a brave young fellow.” 

“Well, yes, father; but there wasn’t any thing 
so wonderfully brave in swimming for that boat.” 

“ No, and he did not think there was ; but he was 
ready.” 

“Yes, he’d got himself all wet through before.” 

“ I didn’t mean that exactly.” 

“ I’d have been ready, too, if I were such a swim- 
mer as he is.” 

“ Then you must be. I want you to be ready for 
any thing. The man you were named after, the 
Chevalier Bayard, was always ready.” 

“Yes, father; and I’m glad I was named after 
such a man, and not after a tubful of big red flowers 
like those.” 

“Only a nickname, my son. I persuaded your 
cousin’s father to name him after Richard, the lion- 
hearted king of England. I must say I hardly 
thought I should ever hear him called Piney.” 


70 


AMONG THE LANES. 


There he comes now. He looks a good deal 
better with a suit of dry clothes on.” 

So he did, but he did not seem to care much 
about it ; and it was not long before he was giving 
his city cousin a pull in the old scow out upon the 
lake. 

“We won’t forget to put the oars in,” he said, as 
they pushed away from the landing. “ There isn’t 
anybody handy to swim out after us. It’s too near 
tea-time, or we might try for some fish. Never 
mind, we’ll have plenty of that while you’re here.” 

“ Next week ? ” 

“Well, yes; some next week, and more the week 
after. School doesn’t close till a week from to-day. 
It’ll be examination next Friday. You know what 
that is, I suppose.” 

“Guess I do. What are you to be examined 
in .? ” 

Piney told him ; and Bi’s respect for his country 
cousin rose a good deal before they finished their 
mutual account of the books they were at work on. 

Still, it was comforting to Bi to find that he was 
right about being “ahead.” There was more, of a 
great many things, to be had “ready made” in the 
city than in the country. All of Piney’s advantage 
over Bi was likely to be in such things as were not 
taught at the academy. 

The supper-hour came, and the boys were back 


THE HORNE TS^-NEST 


on shore in good time for that. Roxy and Susie 
were also on hand, after harvesting the necessary 
strawberries. They were hardly seated before Roxy 
remarked, — 

“ O aunt Keziah ! IVe got something real dreadful 
to tell.” 

‘‘ What is it, Roxy .? ” 

*‘It’s a hornets’-nest, — a real big one. Only 
think of it ! ” 

That’s so,” said Piney. saw it. It’s in the 
apple-tree at the farther end of the garden. It’s 
the biggest kind of a hanging nest.” 

‘‘ I’m glad they’ve never stung any of you,” said 
his mother. Is it a very large one } ” 

“Yes, it’s large; but nobody ever goes up there, 
and they haven’t been disturbed to make ’em savage. 
What was you there for, Roxy "i ” 

“Well, I wanted to show Susie that apples grew 
on big trees.” 

“I guess I knew that before,” said Susie indig- 
nantly ; “ but Roxy said some of our berries we were 
picking were as big as apples.” 

“ So they were, almost,” said Roxy, — “ ’most as 
big as some of the apples on that old tree. But 
there weren’t any apples there as big as that hor- 
net’s-nest.” ^ 

“How did you know it was a hornet’s-nest ? ' 
asked uncle Liph. 


72 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


“Oh! Piney showed me one once. He shot it, 
too, with his gun. I wish he’d shoot this one.” 

“With his bow and arrows.?” asked grandfather 
Hunter. 

“ Yes, or with his gun. Didn’t you know Piney 
had a gun ? It shoots off with real powder.” 

“ How is that, Richard ? ” said his grandfather. 
“ Is that the gun I gave you ? ” 

“Yes, sir; but I guess I won’t shoot those yellow- 
jackets with it.” 

“ What will you do with them ? ” 

“ Let ’em alone, unless they get troublesome. I 
want to get the nest whole. It’s a splendid one.” 

“I see, I see,” said his grandfather. “Do it if 
you can. Get the nest down without breaking it, 
and send it to me.” 

“ That’s what I meant to do.” 

“ I’d as lief have it as a big pair of deer-horns, or 
almost any thing else, if it’s a fine specimen. But 
you must look out and not let them sting you.” 

“ I won’t give ’em a chance if I can help it ; 
but Roxy and Susie had better keep away from that 
tree.” 

“ Roxy,” said aunt Keziah, “ do you hear that ? ” 

“Yes, ma’am,” said Roxy; “but if Piney doesn’t 
shoot the hornets, they won’t let him have the 
nest.” 

“He’d better shoot fish,” said uncle Liph, who 


LOOK OUT FOR THE BONES. 


73 


was eating one of those which Piney and Kyle had 
caught in the morning. “ When are we to have his 
big pickerel } ” 

‘‘Oh!” exclaimed Roxy, “aunt Keziah said we 
were to have that for breakfast ; only it won’t be 
enough to go round, and we’ve saved some of the 
little fish to go with it. You are to eat the 
pickerel.” 

“ What, the whole of him ? ” 

“ No, sir : his head’s been cut off.” 

“And ’oo mustn’t choke ’ooself with the bones,” 
added Chub. 

“ They might choke me, eh ? Well, I’ll look out 
for that. — What are you going to do after supper, 
Richard, — you and Bi ? ” 

“ Go for the cows, sir.” 

“ Shall I go with him, father ? ” asked Bayard. 
“I’m not too tired.” 

“ Yes : only remember what Kyle Wilbur said to 
you about the brindled heifer.” 

“ Humph I ” grumbled Bi. “ I don’t suppose I’m 
likely to be scared to death by any cow.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE HEROIC HEIFER. 

Away back, behind the farmhouse and beyond all 
rhe barns and the hay-ricks, there were woods and 
rocks. Through the back gate of the barnyard, and 
up the hillside, was a sort of narrow lane running 
along the edge of the woods, with a fence on each 
side of it until it turned up and went over the hill. 
There it opened into a great green pasture-lot, which 
spread away over roll after roll, till it went down a 
long slope to the bank of the little river which con- 
nected the lakes. It was all good enough pasture- 
land, as Piney told Bi ; but there were great bowlders 
of rock scattered here and there in many directions, 
and these were in the way of its doing quite so well 
for corn or potatoes. 

The sun was yet more than half an hour high 
when, right away after supper, the two boys set out 
after the cows. It was Piney’s regular business ; 
but it was all new to Bi, and he enjoyed it more 
than he would have been willing to say to anybody. 

74 


ONE OF PINEY'S NEIGHBORS, 


75 


The long, narrow lane was not kept up at all like 
a city street. Just back of the barnyard it was 
lined with “choke-cherry trees” for several rods. 
None of these were very large, — hardly more than 
good tall bushes. Beyond that there were some 
sumach-bushes, with their brilliant red ornaments. 
Burdocks and big bull-thistles grew everywhere ; and 
Piney pointed out milk-weed and scoke-root, and a 
dozen other plants. He seemed to know them all, 
and what some of them were good for. 

“ They don’t do any harm in the lane,” he said ; 
“ but they’re a great bother in some other parts of 
the farm.” 

“Can’t you kill ’em out } ” asked Bi. 

“They don’t die easy somehow. If you killed 
them all this year, they’d come up again in the same 
places next spring, just as if nothing’d happened to 
’em.” 

“ What sort of tree is that ^ ” 

“ Don’t you know ? Why, that’s a chestnut. It 
bears heavy too. When frost comes that tree’ll be 
worth something. Do you see that hole right there 
near the big root ? ” 

“Yes, I see it. What’s it there for.^*” 

“What’s it for.? Why, Bi, that’s a woodchuck’s 
hole. He’s lived there for ever so long.” 

“ Can’t you catch him .? ” 

“ Well, maybe I could ; but I don’t want to. He’s 


76 


AMONG THE LANES. 


been there so long, you know. Aunt Keziah says 
he’s a kind of old neighbor.” 

“ Don’t you ever catch any thing around here ? 
Or don’t you ever shoot any thing ? ” 

“Of course we do, but not at this time o’ year. 
In the fall those woods’ll just be full of squirrels if 
it’s a good year for nuts. There are quails too, 
plenty of ’em, and partridges. Then, in the winter 
we get rabbits almost anywhere. It’s a good place 
for ’em down in the marsh, along the south end of 
the lake, when it’s frozen, and there’s snow enough 
to track ’em. All you want then is a dog, and you’re 
sure to pin ’em.” 

“ Are there any deer ” 

“ Not one, ever. They were all killed off long 
ago. So were the wolves and bears and wildcats. 
Now and then there’s a fox, and there’s sure to be 
plenty of skunks around if you keep chickens.” 

“ Do they steal your chickens ? ” 

“Yes; and they steal eggs. So do the minks. 
There are mushrats in the lake and in the river. 
Now and then there’s a weasel.” 

“ Why, Piney, I thought all the wild animals were 
gone.” 

“Gone.? Well, all the big ones are, — that’s so. 
The rest ain’t. Look! There’s a red squirrel, — 
there, on the fence. And there’s a chipmunk.” 

“I see him. He looks like a kind of little squir- 


JVOJV WHAT^S THE MATTER? 


77 


“ So he is. Some folks call ’em ground-squirrels. 
So they call the woodchucks ‘ground-hogs’ too.” 

“ Do they look like a hog ? ” 

“Not a bit, — no more’n a ’coon does. ’Coons 
are scarce around here. The old folks say there 
used to be plenty of ’em.” 

“Well, but about the birds } ” 

“ Birds } I don’t know ’bout them. They kind o’ 
come and go. In the spring and fall that lake of 
ours is sometimes just black with ducks and geese. 
I’ve shot any number of ’em, — brant too.” 

“Wouldn’t I like to be here then ! ” 

“ I wish you’d come. We could go squirrel-hunt- 
ing, too, in the fall. Grandfather gave me a splen- 
did double-barrelled gun a year ago. It beats any 
thing else round here.” 

“I could get one just like it in the city,” said Bi 
positively. 

“Of course you could. Hullo! What’s the mat- 
ter with the cows ” 

They had walked .along as they talked until they 
were well past the woods, and they had stopped a 
score of times to look at things ; but just now they 
were close by the bars that opened into the pasture. 
Some of the cows were in sight ; but, instead of 
quietly feeding, they were beginning to move 
around, and even to trot hurrievily along towards 
the bars. 


78 


AMONG THE LANES. 


‘‘ Co’ boss ! Co’ boss ! Co’ boss ! ” shouted Piney 
at the top of his voice, as he let down the bars. 

*‘Do they always come when you call asked Bi. 

Patty does, and so does Lady Washington ; and 
the rest follow them. There they come. Where’s 
Patty .? There comes the old Lady. I declare ! ” 

“ What’s the matter } ” 

“Matter.? Why, it’s Bill Young’s yellow dog. 
He just loves to worry cows. I believe he’s a sheep- 
killer too. ril give him a charge of buckshot some 
day if he doesn’t keep out of our pasture. Just see 
him now ! ” 

Some half a dozen cows were coming rather 
hastily along the hillside towards the bars, but two 
more in the rear were moving more deliberately. 

“ Come on, Bi,” said Piney, as he started forward. 
“ Patty has turned on him. She never ran from a 
dog in her life, nor from any thing else. She is 
my pet heifer: I raised her from a calf. She will 
follow me anywhere.” 

Piney did not add, as he might have done, that he 
was the only living being of her acquaintance to 
whom the “brindled heifer” did not sometimes show 
signs of her very uncertain temper. She was de- 
cidedly a cow by no means to be trifled with. It 
may have been, indeed, that one reason why Lady 
Washington herself— the best and most peaceful 
of milkers — walked along now so composedly, was 


BAD FOR THE DOG. 


79 


because of her confidence in Patty. A noble-look- 
ing cow was the “ Lady,” with a mild, motherly face, 
and with a dignified manner of marching, as if she 
were aware of her value, and that her owner would 
not trade her for any four other cows in the whole 
valley. 

Piney and Bi hurried forward. 

“ Hush ! ” said Piney. “ Keep still. Let’s see 
what he’ll do. He’s trying to dodge past Patty.” 

A big, ungainly, mongrel sort of dog was that of 
Bill Young. Nobody in the world would have given 
ten cents for him, but he was just the kind of dog 
to make trouble. He was barking furiously at the 
brindled heifer; and she was facing him with her 
head down, and with her sharp black horns moving to 
and fro in a very menacing and dangerous-looking way. 

“ I wouldn’t care to have her hook me,” remarked 
Bi. 

That dog won’t either if she gets a fair chance 
at him. There ! ” 

The yellow dog had made a sudden jump and a 
rush, as if he meant to make a charge on the other 
cows, especially the Lady ; but Patty was too quick 
for him. Bi Hunter had never imagined that any 
cow on earth could be so quick as that Her horns 
did not strike the yellow dog with their points, or it 
would have been very bad indeed for him : they 
only passed under him as he made his jump. 


So 


AMONG THE LANES, 


What a toss that was ! For Patty made it with 
all her will. Up, up went her head, and the next 
instant the yellow dog was flying through the air 
away over the back of the brindled heifer. He fell 
among a clump of huckleberry-bushes just as Patty 
wheeled around as if she meant to look for him. 
Perhaps he would have been worse hurt if the 
huckleberry-bushes had not broken his fall ; but, 
the moment he was on his feet again, he ran as if 
for his life, yelping piteously. Bi sent after him a 
stone he had picked up, but the dog was running 
too fast for even Piney to have made a good throw 
at him. Still the stone helped Bi to express his 
feelings, and to show which side of that fight he 
was on. 

Piney hardly looked after the defeated dog; but 
he walked up to Patty, exclaiming, — 

‘‘So! So, Patty I You got him. You’re the 
cow for me. Come, now, stop shaking your head : 
he’s gone.” 

Patty answered him with a kind of subdued bel- 
low, which said a good deal for her state of mind. 
She was evidently quite ready for another dog, and 
did not care a wisp of hay how soon he should come 
to be tossed. Still she submitted to be patted and 
praised by her young master, and even allowed Bi 
himself to make her acquaintance after a fashion. 
He certainly complimented her warmly, and she 


RETURN OF THE HEROINE, 


8l 


would have been a very ungrateful cow to have 
shaken her tapering horns at him. 

The brindled heifer was a much more slender and 
graceful creature than Lady Washington ; but, as 
Piney explained, — 

“She’s nothing like so good a milker. Aunt 
Keziah’d have sold her long ago if she hadn’t been 
a kind of pet.” 

“And then, too,” said Bi, “she’s wonderfully good 
for stray dogs.” 

“ I guess that dog doesn’t think so. I wish Bill 
Young had seen him fly. — Come, Patty ! The 
Lady’s at the bars. All the rest are half way to 
the barn.” 

Patty was a brisk walker, and she soon caught up 
with Lady Washington ; but nothing else happened 
until they were all safe in the barnyard. 

The sun was down, and it would soon be dark ; 
but all those cows were to be milked. Ann and one 
of the hired men were waiting to attend to that 
business ; and there, too, were Roxy and Susie and 
Chub. 

“ I won’t milk this time, Susie,” said Roxy. “ I’ll 
stand here with you, and show you how they do 
it.” 

“ Do you ever milk the cows } ” 

“ Oh, yes ! I milked one once, but I didn’t get 
any milk.” 


82 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


“ Not a bit ? didn’t you ? ” 

“Not a bit. Ann said one reason was because 
that cow had been milked a’ ready.” 

“ Does she know all about cows } ” 

“ Guess she does. She’s milking Lady Washing- 
ton now. That’s the biggest milkpail we’ve got.” 

“ Aunt Keziah said we were to have all the milk 
we wanted, after they brought it in.” 

“Just as much as we can drink. You don’t have 
any cows in the city, do you "i ” 

“ No, but the milkman comes.” 

“ Does he bring it in a pail } ” 

“No, in a wagon. He comes early in the morn- 
ing, before we’re up.” 

“ Is it real milk } ” 

“Yes, father says so; that is, he said he guessed 
there was milk in it.” 

“ Ours is real milk, ’cause we’ve got the real cows 
to milk it from. They’re all real.” 

So they were ; but now the hired man was trying 
to get Patty to stand still for him, and he was not 
succeeding very well. He was patient, and at last 
the brindled heifer quieted her angry mind a little. 
The pail under her was filling rapidly, when Roxy 
said to Susie, — 

“That’s Piney’s pet heifer. She does ’most any 
thing he wants her to. She likes me too. Just sec 
me speak to her.” 


FERy STRAIGUT KICKING, 83 

She tripped forward, and put her little hand on 
Patty’s neck, saying, — 

Pretty Patty ! Good cow ! Nice cow ! ” 

It was affectionately meant ; but Patty not only 
shook her head in an unpleasant sort of way, she 
struck out vigorously with her hind-feet. 

Before Roxy could so much as jump back and 
scream, the hired man was rolling upon the ground, 
with a shower of new milk flying all over him. 
Patty had given the milk-pail one kick, and the 
milking-stool another; but nobody was hurt. 

“Piney,” asked Bi, ‘‘do you s’pose she took him 
for a dog .? ” 

“ Guess not,” said Piney. “ I ought to have 
milked her myself to-night. Sometimes she won’t 
stand still for anybody else.” 

“ O Roxy ! ” exclaimed Susie. “Are you hurt } ” 

“No,” said Roxy, “I ain’t hurt a bit; but she’s 
kicked over the milk.” 

“It’s all your fault,” said Ann. “If you’d have 
let her alone, she’d never have stirred.” 

“ I just touched her.” 

“Come, Roxy,” said Piney, “you and Susie and 
Chub had better come in with Bi and me.” 

“ What for, Piney } ” 

“ Oh, it’s time ! Besides, we can’t have any more 
pails kicked over. The cows are cross to-night.” 

“ Do take ’em in ! ” said Ann. 


84 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


“Yes, Roxy,” said Susie, “come. I don’t like 
their horns a bit.” 

Chub had kept very still ever since he came into 
the barnyard. He had seen cows milked often 
enough ; and not only was he tired, but he knew 
that the best part of the whole business — the milk- 
drinking — would come to pass in the house. 

“New milk is good, that’s a fact,” strongly re- 
marked Bayard Hunter, a little while after that. 


CHAPTER IX. 

A COUNTRY SUNDAY MORNING. 

Everybody in the farmhouse was pretty thor- 
oughly tired out that night. Even the boys and 
girls were willing to go to bed early. The next day 
would be Sunday ; and there would be time to rest, 
and to get over the excitement they all had been 
undergoing. In order to be ready for Sunday’s 
resting, however, it was well for them to do as much 
of sound and healthy sleeping as they could. The 
visitors from the city did their duty so well that 
when Bi Hunter and his sisters, and their older rela- 
tives, awoke that Sunday morning, every member 
of aunt Keziah’s household, except Piney’s mother, 
had been up and dressed for a good while. 

Piney himself had driven the cows to pasture 
after they were milked. A little after his return 
to the house, he remarked quietly to aunt Keziah, — 

“I guess Bill Young’s dog would rather go to 
meeting to-day, or ’most anywhere else, than come 
loafing around our pasture-lot.” 


85 


86 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


What’s he been doing there ? ” 

Piney told her ; and she exclaimed, — 

‘‘ Served him right ! I don’t care if Patty did 
kick over her pail, now I know how she came to 
lose her temper. She’s a jewel.” 

“ She’s as good as a watch-dog, and all the other 
cows know it. — I say, Roxy, are you going to pick 
strawberries this morning .? ” 

“ Why, Piney Hunter ! Didn’t you know it was 
Sunday.? No: I’m going to help aunt Keziah get 
breakfast. Besides, Susie and Bi’ll be up after a 
a while; won’t they, aunt Keziah? ” 

*‘They will, unless they’ve made up their minds 
to sleep all day. — Ann, ring the bell to wake ’em 
up.” 

“ I’ll ring it,” said Roxy. 

“ Ring away, then. I expect it’ll have to be rung 
more’n once, if they’re to be got up in time. City- 
folks don’t seem to know what early rising is.” 

“Isn’t it morning now^ up in the city?” asked 
Roxy. 

“Of course it is, but most of the people don’t 
know it. There now, don’t touch the eggs. Get 
your bell, and ring.” 

That was one thing Roxy loved to do, and there 
was not a particle of danger but what she would 
make herself heard by everybody up stairs. She 
even went to the very door of her aunt Sarah’s 


I^OXV^S RINGING. 


87 


room, and rang until uncle Liph called out to her 
to know if she were ringing because it was church 
time. 

“No, it isn’t,” said Roxy. “This is only getting- 
up time.” 

“Is breakfast ready } ” 

“No, sir; but we’ve begun to cook the fish. 
Aunt Keziah says if it’s cooked to death, it’ll be all 
your fault : she can’t help it.” 

Then Roxy wondered why her uncle laughed so 
heartily ; but she gave another good ring, and hur- 
ried down for a look at the pickerel while he was 
broiling. 

“ She’s right though,” remarked uncle Liph. 
“ We must be on time. Wonder if Bayard is up.” 

Bi had heard the bell ; and it was not a great 
while before he was out on the lawn, looking for 
Piney. He asked Roxy about him, when she came 
out of the house to say good-morning. 

“ Piney ? ” she said. “ Oh ! he’s been taking the 
cows to pasture. He’s out at the barn now.” 

“What, — on Sunday.?” 

“Oh, yes, of course! Our cows don’t mind Sun- 
day a bit. Do city cows mind it .? ” 

“ All the cows we have in our house do — but we 
haven’t any. What do you all do on Sunday, out 
here in the country .? ” 

“ Oh 1 we eat breakfast and dinner and supper, and 


88 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


we go to church and to Sunday school, and we*re 
real good. Sunday’s the right day to be good.” 

“ Where’s your church "i ” 

Oh ! it’s down to the village. We ride there ; 
but aunt Keziah says there won’t be room for you 
and Piney and me.” 

“ In the church } ” 

Why, no. The meeting-house is ever so big, — 
big enough for everybody. She means in the car- 
riage. Some of you will have to walk both ways.” 

It was evident that Roxy’s ears caught about all 
that was said in her hearing, and that her tongue 
was only too ready to repeat whatever her ears gave 
it ; but Bi only laughed, and said, — 

‘‘Well, then. I’ll walk with cousin Richard; that 
is, if it isn’t too far.” 

“ Why don’t you call him Piney } ” 

“That isn’t his name.” 

“Yes, it is. Everybody calls him Piney, — even 
Kyle Wilbur, and all the other boys.” 

“ Do they ? Well, I wouldn’t stand it if I were 
he.” 

“ He doesn’t care, only he says it makes him red 
in the face.” 

“ Roxy ? Roxy ? Where are you ? Susie’s look- 
ing for you.” 

It was aunt Keziah’s voice, and Roxy sprang away 
to meet her cousin. Piney returned from his morn- 


GETTING ALL READY. 


89 


ing duties in time for breakfast, and Bi thought it 
was the first time he had had a good look at him. 
He was compelled to admit that he was a remark- 
ably healthy, handsome, manly sort of boy ; but he 
added cautiously to himself, — 

That is, for the country.” 

The big pickerel was by no means “cooked to 
death ; ” and grandfather Hunter and uncle Liph 
declared that they had not enjoyed a breakfast so 
much for a long time. 

“It’s late for us,” said aunt Keziah ; “but I s’pose 
it’s early for you. I reckon we’ll all have just about 
time to dress for meeting. How many of you are 
going } ” 

Grandfather wanted to go, but he said he felt too 
tired and lame ; and Piney’s mother felt like keeping 
him company at home. Chub was too young to go ; 
but all the rest were ready, or meant to be. 

“Then, Mary,” said aunt Sarah, “you and Bayard 
and Richard can go on foot. Your father and 1, 
and aunt Keziah and Roxy and Susie, will fill the 
carryall.” 

“ I should say you would,” remarked Piney’s 
mother. “It’s a beautiful walk, Mary. I used to 
prefer it to riding.” 

Mary was fond of walking, she said ; and then 
she added that the distance was nothing, for she 
went a gieat deal farther than that in the city 


90 


AMONG THE LAKES, 


almost any day. “Why, you can’t do any shopping 
at all, without walking several miles.” 

“ Country walking will tire you a good deal more 
than that does,” said aunt Keziah ; “but then, it’ll 
do you more good.” 

“ May I walk with ’em } ” asked Roxy. 

“I think not,” said her mother. “You’re too 
little, and you’d hinder them.” 

Roxy pouted, but there was no appeal ; and even 
cousin Mary told her it would be too long a walk 
for her in so warm a day. 

“Piney,” said aunt Keziah, “we’ll all start early 
enough; but you that are to walk had better go 
ahead. It’ll be real warm, as Mary says; and you 
won’t care to walk very fast.” 

“We’ll take our time,” said Piney; “but there’s 
plenty of shade to walk under.” 

So there was, as Mary Hunter was glad to find, 
after she and her boy escort set out for the village. 
She had rarely seen such flourishing rows of elms 
and maples and horse-chestnut trees as lined that 
road. 

The road itself was dusty enough ; but there was 
no wind of any consequence, and there were not 
many carriages to stir the dust up. Now and then 
a great, lumbering, farmer’s wagon came rolling 
slowly along, with a family of good people in it, on 
their way to meeting ; and Mary thought she had 


ISN'T SHE PRETTY? 


91 


never before seen quite so many queer sun-bonnets 
and parasols. 

‘‘Bonnets.^” said Piney. “Now, you just wait 
till we have a good chance to rummage our garret, 
ril show you what sort of things people used to 
wear.” 

“The garret.?” said Mary. “I’d like that im- 
mensely. You must not forget to show it to me. 
How those two boys are staring at us ! ” 

“At you and Bi. They both know me well 
enough. That’s Kyle Wilbur, — that thin-faced 
boy; and the other’s Bill Young. He owns the 
dog that got tossed by our brindled heifer. They 
just do stare ! They’ve no more manners ” — 

Before Piney could finish his somewhat angry 
remark, Kyle Wilbur nudged Bill Young with his 
elbow, and they both turned their heads the right 
way instantly, and hurried forward. 

“ She’s looking at you,” Kyle had whispered, as 
if that were quite enough to scare him. 

“ I’ve had a good look at her anyhow,” said Bill 
Young; “and she isn’t dressed any better’n some 
of our country-girls. Just plain white, and a straw 
hat. Are her folks poor .? ” 

“ I guess they ain’t. But isn’t she pretty ! I say 
she just is, — I do.” 

“That’s her brother, isn’t it.? Guess I could 
handle him, and not half try.” 


92 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


You’d best not try it on, then, when Piney Hun- 
ter’s nigh around. They’re his cousins, you know.” 

‘‘Who cares for Piney Hunter ? ” 

“Well, I do. So do most folks. Do you mean 
you can handle him } ” 

“ I ain’t afraid of him.” 

“ Well, no, he’s the best-natured feller a-going ; 
but I tell you what. Bill, he’s awful strong.” 

“There goes the second bell,” said Piney to Bi, 
at that moment ; and in a minute or so more an 
open carriage rolled past them, and they heard Roxy 
calling, — 

“ Piney, the bell’s tolling. You’ll be late.” 

“ No, we won’t,” said he. “ There’s time enough 
yet. Old Morgan just loves to toll that bell, it’s so 
much easier than to ring it.” 


CHAPTER X. 

AT THE MEETING-HOUSE. 

When the carryall passed Piney and his cousins, 
they were just in the edge of the pretty little village. 

“ How came it to be named ‘ Parable Centre ' ? 
asked Mary. 

‘‘I can’t exactly say,” said Piney, ‘‘unless it was 
to know it from all the other Parables.” 

“All the others ? ” she said. 

“Why, yes. There’s Parable Square, and Parable 
Four Corners, and Upper Parable, and Lower Par- 
able; and they started a place they were going to 
call Little Parable, but nobody wanted to live there, 
and they had to give it up.” 

“ This one isn’t very large.” 

“ Well, it’s a little place to have an academy and 
four meeting-houses ; but there they are. Ours is 
the big white one, with so many teams hitched 
along in front of it.” 

Bi Hunter thought that the meeting-house was 
any thing but a big one, but he did not say so ; and 

93 


94 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


Mary went on, wondering why all the people they 
met looked at them so curiously. 

“Are we dressed differently?’' she ventured to 
ask of Piney. 

“Dressed? No, that isn’t it; but you’re stran- 
gers. Everybody knows everybody else around 
here. They all know me. ” 

“Then they’ll guess who we are.” 

“ Of course they will ; and you don’t know how 
proud I am. Everybody envies a fellow that has 
city relations come to see him.” 

“ Do they ? I don’t see what for.” 

There was a sparkle of fun in Mary’s eyes ; but 
they were getting pretty near the meeting-house, 
and she saw Roxy on the front steps of it, pointing 
at them. She was saying, although neither of them 
could hear her, — 

“Deacon Simmons, there they come. That’s 
cousin Mary. She didn’t wear her best bonnet 
though, but her shoes and her stockings are beau- 
tiful.” 

The carryall had been driven very slowly indeed, 
as was proper on Sunday, but had nevertheless 
arrived a few minutes earlier than had the party on 
foot. There was a wide platform at the top of the 
steps leading to the meeting-house door ; and a good 
many people were lingering there, just before going 
on in. All of them knew aunt Keziah ; and Susie 


IT WON^T HURT YOU. 


95 


and Roxy were surprised to see how many, espe- 
cially of the older people, seemed to be acquainted 
with uncle Liph and aunt Sarah. They all appeared 
to be glad to see them too ; and there was a great 
deal of hand-shaking, and of saying ^‘How d’ye 
do } ” and of asking about others who were not 
there. 

Roxy, too, knew everybody, and felt that she had 
a duty to perform. 

“ Mrs. Simmons,” she said to a good old lady, 
who was leaning upon her husband’s arm, and 
waiting for a chance to speak to Roxy’s relatives, 
‘‘this little girl is my cousin Susie.” 

“ Is she, my dear } I knew her mother when she 
was very young, but not so young as Susie is. — 
Will you kiss me, dear } ” 

“Yes, Susie, kiss her,” said Roxy. “It’s Mrs 
Simmons, and that’s Deacon Simmons. Sometimes 
she kisses me. It won’t hurt you a bit.” 

“No, it won’t,” laughed the old lady, as Susie 
lifted her fresh and pleasant little face. “ I was a 
little girl once, but that was long ago.” 

“ Ever so long ago,” added Roxy. “ And cousin 
Mary and Bi are coming along with Piney. There 
wasn’t room for ’em in the carriage, and so they had 
to walk. I rode.” 

Deacon Simmons and his wife knew Roxy very 
well, and they might have said more to her and 


96 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


Susie if aunt Keziah had not just then spoken to 
them. And then Roxy, a moment or so later, 
tugged at the old lady’s gown to tell her that Piney 
and the rest were coming. Then the sweet-toned 
old bell, up there ever so high, in the tapering 
wooden steeple, ceased its tolling; and it was time 
for them all to go in. 

Aunt Keziah led the way to a seat in the middle 
aisle; but after uncle Liph and aunt Sarah, and 
Bayard and Mary and Susie, had walked into it, she 
seemed to think that they were enough to fill it, 
and took Roxy with her into the next pew behind. 
Roxy heard her whisper to aunt Sarah, — 

“ It’s just as well she and Susie shouldn’t sit too 
close together.” 

Aunt Sarah smiled, as if she understood and 
agreed with her; but Bi was just then staring after 
Piney. 

Instead of remaining with his family, that young 
gentleman marched right on up the aisle, only a 
step or two behind the minister himself, who had 
just come in. He did not follow him into the pul- 
pit, however, but turned suddenly to the left at the 
head of the aisle. 

“Why,” said Bi to himself, “that looks like the 
choir ! Isn’t that a sort of reed-organ in front 
of it.?” 

So it was, and a pretty good one too ; and, to Bi’s 


ROXY^S RAID. 


97 


further astonishment, Piney Hunter sat quietly down 
behind the reed-organ, and began to finger the keys. 

“ How red his face is ! ” thought Bi. “ Never saw 
it look quite so red.” 

Roxy could have told him that her brother always 
blushed dreadfully red whenever he sat down to 
play, but it was worse than common that morning. 
He would rather have played for all the people of 
Parable Centre than before his city relations. 

‘‘Aunt Keziah,” loudly whispered Roxy, as she 
stood up and peered over into the next pew, “ they 
haven’t any hymn-books. Somebody’s borrowed 
’em all. Pll get some.” 

Before aunt Keziah could turn her eyes from the 
minister, to see what her niece might be doing, 
Roxy stepped gravely out, and walked up the aisle 
to where, on the reed-organ in front of Piney, there 
was quite a pile of hymn-books. Some girls older 
than Roxy would have taken only one or two ; but 
she knew exactly how many people she had to pro- 
vide for, and she piled up four in her chubby hands, 
saying to herself, “ One for cousin Bi, and the rest 
of us can look over.” That meant one hymn-book 
for each two persons, and an extra one for Bayard. 

Roxy thought she had never before seen the 
people in that meeting-house look so remarkably 
pleasant. Almost every one was smiling at her as 
she came l)ack down the aisle with her hymn-books, 


98 


AMONG THE LANES. 


and she smiled back at them of course. She won- 
dered, though, what possessed Piney to play so 
hard on his organ as he was playing just then. 
What, too, could aunt Keziah mean by muttering, 
‘‘Just like her!” as she held out her hand for a 
hymn-book 

Roxy had done her duty, and all that the grown- 
up people had to do was to do their duty ; and the 
minister arose behind his pulpit, and gave out the 
text of his sermon : — 

“And a little child shall lead them.” 

Roxy was troubled a little at first, as to whether 
the city people would be able to find the hymns ; but 
they seemed to know how. 

Bi listened attentively to the music, and so did 
cousin Mary ; and they made up their minds that 
Piney was doing very well for a boy of his age. 
“ Every way well enough for a country choir, and a 
reed-organ,” was what Bi’s decision meant ; but he 
wondered how much Piney knew about a piano. 
He was to find out something interesting about that 
also, before the day ended. 

After the services were completed, and while the 
congregation was getting out of the church, and 
into the wagons and carriages, or scattering slowly 
away on foot, there was a great deal more of shak- 
ing hands to be done. The minister himself shook 
hands with Roxy and Susie. He said to Roxy, — 


EIGHT COWS. 


99 


“I suppose you can’t stay to the Sunday-school 
to-day.” 

“No, sir,” she said. “There’s company at our 
house. There they are. We brought ’em all to 
church, ’cept grandpa. He’d have come, but he 
said he’d rheumatized one of his fore-feet, and he 
couldn’t come.” 

“ That’s a good reason,” said the minister, with a 
narrow escape from laughing. “Your grandfather 
is a pretty old man now. He’s older than I am by 
several years.” 

“Yes, sir, he’s dreadful old; but then, he never 
boasts of it.” 

“ I suppose you mean that he never complains of 
it. Well, that’s right. I won’t either. — You have 
two very nice little nieces here. Miss Merrill.” 

“ He means aunt Keziah,” whispered Roxy to 
Susie. “ I heard him call cousin Mary, Miss 
Hunter.” 

“ That’s her name,” said Susie. 

“Yes,” replied aunt Keziah to the minister. 
“You have already met the others. You must 
come and see them while they are here. I am rich 
in nephews and nieces.” 

“ And we’ve got eight cows,” began Roxy ; but, 
just at that moment, uncle Liph took hold of her 
hand to lead her to the carriage, and aunt Keziah 
was left to tell the minister as much or as little 


100 


AMONG THE LANES. 


more about her dairy as she might see fit on 
Sunday. 

The walk home was a pretty warm one for Piney 
and his cousins ; and they made it warmer for him by 
complimenting him upon his musical performances. 

“ Where did you learn 1 ” asked Mary. 

** Oh ! mother taught me to play on the piano at 
home. She and I have a singing-time every Sunday 
afternoon. We can have one to-day if you’d like 
it, by and by.” 

“ But the reed-organ } ” 

‘‘ Oh ! that was a present to the church from a 
man who was going away, and wanted to give ’em 
something to remember him by.” 

“ But who taught you to play on it ” persisted 
Mary. 

“ Why, we had a man, at first, that knew how ; 
but they didn’t praise him enough, and he left the 
choir. Then I used to go over and practise on it 
evenings, and sometimes mornings before school ; 
and after a while I made it go.” 

Bayard somehow could not help remembering 
what Kyle Wilbur had told him, that “ Piney always 
seems to get a good hold, when he goes for any 
thing ; ” and it struck him that there must be some 
truth in it. Whether it was a pickerel or a reed- 
organ, the red-faced boy was likely to grip it well, 
and then to hang on until he had mastered it. 


HOME. 


101 


They did not meet anybody to speak of or to ; 
and the carryall was away ahead of them, for it 
had started at the same time, and people always 
drive home from church faster than they drive in 
going. They arrived in time for a cooling rest 
before dinner, and they all found themselves ex- 
traordinarily hungry. 


CHAPTER XI. 

A GREAT EGG-HUNT. 

That turned out to be a very pleasant Sunday 
afternoon and evening at the farmhouse. Uncle 
Liph said that he seemed to be doing up a whole 
month’s resting, and he did not appear to be making 
any special effort. 

There was plenty of music. Cousin Mary was 
already aware that her aunt Elizabeth, Piney’s 
mother, had been a good musician in her younger 
days ; but neither Mary nor aunt Sarah knew how 
much of her powers she had preserved, in spite of 
ill health and a long widowhood. As for Piney, 
nothing could make him touch the piano until his 
mother said she was tired. Even then he only 
played a few simple accompaniments, which he did 
very well. After that, he insisted upon Mary and 
then Bayard taking his place. Roxy told them, — 
Aunt Keziah says Piney never will show off.” 

She did not make any such attempt herself, but 
she sang in every hymn they tried. At least, she 


102 


SUNDAY EVENING, 


103 


did her very best to sing in each, and her voice was 
a very sweet one to hear. 

“ Roxy,” said her mother, “ I think I must teach 
you and Susie something you can sing together.” 

‘‘ Won’t that be splendid, Susie } ” said Roxy. 
“You’ll learn ever so much while you’re here. 
Mother says I’m learning something new all the 
while.” 

“I guess she’s right,” remarked aunt Sarah; “but 
you wouldn’t wish to know too much, would you .? ” 

“ Oh, no, aunt Sarah ! I don’t suppose I could. 
Aunt Keziah says uncle Liph knows too much. 
Does he } ” 

“Keziah.? Keziah .?” shouted uncle Liph, “what 
have you been saying about me behind my back .? ” 

“I said just what Roxy says I did,” said aunt 
Keziah. “ You’ve read so many books about peo- 
ple everybody else has forgotten, and you know so 
much about them, that you might almost just as 
well have lived when they did.” 

“Well, no, Keziah,” said he. “ I like these times 
very well. Some day I want you and Roxy and 
Piney to come and visit me, and see all my curiosi- 
ties. — How would you like that, Roxy ? ” 

“ Oh ! I’d like it ever so much. Hasn’t grandpa 
got some too .? ” 

“Plenty of ’em. We keep ’em all together. 
When you come, I’ll show you. Why, Roxy, I’ve 


104 


AMONG THE LANES. 


a big Stuffed eagle, and an owl that's bigger than 
any hen you’ve got.” 

“ O uncle Liph ! how I’d like to see them ! But 
then, our hens lay eggs. Susie and I are going to 
the barn to hunt for eggs in the morning.” 

“ My owl doesn’t lay any eggs. The eagle doesn’t 
either. They might just as well be dead.” 

Ain’t stuffed birds dead?” asked Roxy. “Piney 
stuffed a crow once, but he shot it first.” 

‘‘That was right,” said uncle Liph. “I’m glad 
he did.” 

“Guess Piney knows,” she said; but just then 
Ann rang the tea-bell, and Roxy had no further 
opportunity to tell all there was in her mind about 
the crow, and how remarkably well and lifelike he 
looked after he was stuffed. 

After supper grandpa took Roxy on his knee, 
and told her some wonderful stories that she had 
never before heard. Susie came too, and pulled up 
a chair beside them ; and even Piney seemed to be 
listening, now and then, until aunt Keziah said, — 

“ There, grandpa, she won’t sleep a wink to-night, 
with all those things in her head. It’s past her bed- 
time now.” 

“Don’t you think you will sleep, Roxy?” asked 
grandpa, as he put his wrinkled hand gently upon 
her dark curls. 

Her head, as she sat in his lap, had been leaning 


SPLENDID PROSPECTS. 


105 


upon his shoulder; and his last story about the 
ancient times had been a long one. 

‘‘ She’ll sleep, I guess,” said Piney, with a chuckle, 
when Roxy made no answer; “but you’ll have to 
wake her up now, before you can put her to bed.” 

“ I should say so ! ” exclaimed aunt Keziah. “The 
poor little thing has entertained her company till 
she’s tired out.” 

“ Roxy } Roxy } ” said grandpa. “ Wake up. 
It’s bedtime. The chickens are all on the roost.’^ 

Roxy’s eyes were opening, and she heard him 
speak of chickens. 

“ No,” she said, “ the little chickens creep under 
the old hen ; and the big chickens will roost on the 
sleigh in the barn, in spite of all we can do.” 

There was evidently little to be feared, for her, 
from grandpa Hunter’s marvellous stories ; and 
Susie was used to hearing them. As for Chub, he 
had now been in his crib for some time, forgetful of 
every thing. 

“ Bi,” said Piney, “let’s go to bed early. One of 
the hands’ll take care of the cows in the morning. 
You and I can have a good fish and a swim before 
breakfast.” 

“That’ll suit me,” said Bi; “specially the going 
to bed. Seems to me I never was so sleepy in all 
my life.” 

The older folk said the same; and before long 


AMONG THE LAKES, 


id6 

the whole farmhouse was as quiet as one of uncle 
Liph’s stuffed birds. 

That is a time of the year, however, when the 
sunlight stays in the world as late as it can every 
evening, and comes back as early as possible in the 
morning. It is just as if the sun could not bear to 
be away from so beautiful a thing as this earth of 
ours is in June. It was a good night to sleep in, 
and not too warm, with all the windows open to the 
fresh breeze from the hills ; and it was not too long. 
Even Roxy awoke bright and early the next morning. 

“ Oh, the eggs ! ” she exclaimed, as she sprang 
out of bed. “ We must get some for uncle Liph’s 
breakfast.” 

Susie was fast asleep ; but Roxy leaned across the 
bed, and shook her. 

“ Wake up, Susie ! Wake up ! ” 

“I’m awake. Is it morning.? That is. I’m almost 
pretty near awake,” yawned Susie, as she opened 
her blue eyes. 

“Morning.? Why, if you listen with both your 
ears, you can hear the hens cackle. That’s at the 
barn.” 

“ I hear them. What do they do it for .? ” 

“So we sha’n’t forget about coming after the 
eggs. Sometimes we might forget if the hens 
didn’t cackle.” 

“ Don’t they ever forget .? ” 


THE WET CHICKENS. 


107 


“ I guess not. I never heard them forget. Hurry 
up now, and we’ll get ever so many.” 

Susie was hurrying already, for she liked the 
idea of hunting for eggs. In a few minutes more 
they were down in the kitchen, asking Ann for the 
egg basket. This was quite a pretty one, made of 
willow, with a cover that was tied on by a red 
ribbon. 

“ Piney bought it for me,” said Roxy. “ All the 
chickens belong to him and me.” 

‘^That’s nice, isn’t it.?” said Susie. “I wish I 
had some. What do you do with them .? ” 

“ Oh ! we feed them. They’re all ours till they 
get into the house. Then they’re mother’s and aui^t" 
Keziah’s.” 

“Do they ever come into the house ? ” 

“They have to come in. But there’s always 
enough left in the barn.” 

“ Who brings ’em in .? ” 

“ Oh ! I bring in the eggs ; but I never bring in 
any chickens, — ’cept once I brought in some little 
wet ones, and put ’em by the fire to warm.” 

“ Were they very wet .? ’’ 

“ Guess they were. And the old hen followed 
me, and she clucked and clucked ; and when I put 
down the basket, with all her chickens in it, she sat 
right down on the top of the basket, and picked 
at me.” 


AMONG THE LANES. 


lOS 

“What a naughty old hen !*’ said Susie. 

“So I said to her; but Piney only laughed at me, 
and he carried them all out to the barn again, — the 
old hen and all.” 

The two children had talked their way to the 
barnyard-gate. There were two gates, — a big wide 
one, and a little one at the side of it. 

“ The big gate’s for wagons,” said Roxy. “ I 
could never open that. There’s nothing but a latch 
on this one. Oh, dear me ! ” 

“ What’s the matter, Roxy } ” 

“ Why, Susie, there’s Piney’s bad sheep. They’ve 
left him in the barnyard. There he is.” 

“Is that a bad sheep ? ” asked Susie. “ I thought 
all the sheep in the world were real good. Does he 
bite ” 

“ He isn’t a bit good. No, he doesn’t bite : he 
only bunts. Don’t you see ? He’s got horns. 
Don’t you say a word to him.” 

“ But, Roxy, won’t he run after us ” 

“ I guess he won’t. But you mustn’t point your 
finger at him. We’ll run right across to the barn 
before he thinks about us.” 

For all Susie could see, the old ram looked peace- 
able enough. He was nibbling at a stray bunch of 
hay away off on the other side of the barnyard. 
She hurried along, therefore, at Roxy’s side, with 
one hand upon the handle of the basket, and keep- 


THE BAD SHEEP. 


109 

ing a sharp watch upon the conduct of the ^‘bad 
sheep.” Roxy still further explained him, — 

“ He’s one of Piney’s pets. Piney feeds him, and 
makes him do all sorts of things ; but I don’t like 
him one bit. He bunts dreadfully.” 

They entered the barn through a small door 
which led into the stable. All the horses and cows 
were gone to pasture, or to work ; but both the 
stable itself and all the barn had a neat and tidy 
look. Aunt Keziah could not bear to have any part 
of her place out of order. 

“ Where are the hens } ” asked Susie. 

Why, the hens ? They’re all over everywhere. 
I know where to find some of the nests though, and 
we can hunt for some more. There isn’t much hay 
here now, but there will be pretty soon.” 

Where do they get it from .? ” 

‘‘Out in the hay-field. We’ll go and see ’em 
make it. Maybe they’ll ride us on a hay-wagon. 
That’s fun. Did you ever have a hay-ride > ” 

“No,” said Susie, “I never did; but I saw a pic- 
ture of one once.” 

“ A picture of a hay-ride } With a big heaping 
load of hay, and some girls on it like you and me ? ” 
“Yes; and some big girls, and a whole lot of 
boys.” 

“ I wish I had one. O Susie, here’s a nest ! TwvJ 
eggs in it.” 


no 


AMONG THE LANES. 


‘‘Two eggs? Why, no, there’s three.” 

“No, there isn’t. These two are real eggs, and 
that’s only a nest-egg.” 

“ What do you do with that one ? ” 

“Why, that one ? We just leave it in the nest.” 

“ How do you know it’s a nest-egg ? ” 

“Why!” exclaimed Roxy, in some surprise, “it 
isn’t an egg. Don’t you see, Susie? It’s only 
make believe, of white glass.” 

“So it is. And there’s been something printed 
on it.” 

“Piney put that on. He says they are nothing 
but fraud eggs. They’re just to fool the hens.” 

“ How can they ? The hens don’t know how to 
read. This one says, ‘I’m a fraud.’ ” 

“ Well, that’s it. The hens see it there, and they 
think it’s one of their own eggs. They don’t know 
any better.” 

“The stupid things ! ” said Susie. 

Roxy had already put those two eggs into her 
basket, and it was only a minute or so before she 
was triumphantly showing a second nest. This 
time there were three besides the “nest-egg,” and 
Susie examined the latter with great care. 

“This one says, ‘ I’m lonely.’ ” 

“That’s Piney’s fun. He cut a piece of poetry 
from a newspaper once, and pasted it on a nest- 

egg.” 


PINEY^S HEATHEN. 


Ill 


*‘What for?” 

“ It didn’t do any good, I guess ; but Piney said 
it would make all the hens keep away from that 
nest, and so he washed the poetry off.” 

Egg-hunting was capital fun, and they found 
nest after nest in all sorts of queer out-of-the-way 
corners. In one place there was a great yellow hen 
on the nest. 

‘‘Don’t disturb her,” said Roxy. “She’s one of 
Piney’s heathen, and she’s sitting on ever so many 
eggs.” 

“ A heathen ! ” exclaimed Susie. 

“ He says so. She’s a Chinee. She’s real tall 
when she stands up. He calls her a Shang-high.” 

“ I’ve heard of ’em,” said Susie, as she stared at 
the yellow hen. “ So that’s a Shang-high ! I never 
saw one before.” 

“There’s half a dozen of ’em, when- they’re all 
there. The rooster’s ’most as big as a turkey, and 
you just ought to hear him crow.” 

“ Is it a loud crow ? ” 

“You’d think so if you heard him once. He 
can’t help it. Piney says he’d die if he tried to 
keep all that crow inside of him : if he didn’t let 
some of it out, it would kill him.” 

“Why, Roxy!” exclaimed Susie at that moment, 
'‘the basket’s more’n half full. We don’t want any 
nore, do we ?' ’ 


II2 


AMONG THE LANES. 


“Guess we couldn’t find any more if we did. 
Isn’t it fun though ? ” 

“Splendid! O Roxy I will that bad sheep be out 
there ? ” 

“Yes, he’ll be there; but we needn’t say a word 
to him, and I guess he’ll be good.” 

“ Well, he knows you, but he doesn’t know who I 
am. I wish Piney was here.” 

“ I’ll take care of you,” said Roxy. 


CHAPTER XII. 

FISHING, SWIMMING, AND THE RAM. 

When Piney and Bi entered the boat at the land- 
ing that morning, the sun was hardly more than half 
an hour high. Bi thought he had never seen any 
thing more beautiful than the lake was, with the 
woods and the fields around it. 

“ It’s better than any thing there is in the city,” 
he exclaimed, as Piney took the oars, and began to 
pull rapidly away from the shore. “Which’ll we 
do first, — fish, or swim } ” 

** Swim, of course,” said Piney ‘‘ The water isn’t 
a bit too cold. Then we can fish after that till 
breakfast-time. I never stay in long, — not long 
enough to get tired out.” 

“Where do you go in swimming.?” 

“ Over there by the bushes. Nobody can see you 
from the house or from the road ; and the water’s 
good and deep, and there isn’t any eel-grass on the 
bottom.” 

“ What would that do ? ” 


”3 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


1 14 

It might tangle your feet. Water-lily stems 
are just as mean for that as grass is. I don’t like 
to have any thing touch me when I’m in the 
water.” 

“ Did you ever touch a fish } ” 

“Fish.!^ No. They get out of the way fast 
enough. Here we are.” It was a nice kind of a 
sheltered nook, that Piney was now pulling the boat 
into. The moment its nose touched the shore, he 
dropped his oars, and began to get ready. 

“You put on more clothes than I did, Bi. Why 
don’t you begin to strip ? ” 

“ I will. I brought along my bathing-suit.” 

“ Bathing-suit ? Oh, yes ! that’s it. I’ve heard of 
’em. I’d like to see one.” 

“ I had it last year down by the seashore. It’s 
as good as new.” 

Bi unrolled his bathing-suit, and spread it across 
his knees. It was a very good one, of bright blue 
flannel trimmed with red, and he was half inclined 
to be proud of it ; but Piney eyed it curiously for a 
moment, and remarked, — 

“Well, you wear that if you want to. I’d rather 
have mine.” 

“Yours.? Where is it? I didn’t see you bring 
any.” 

“Got it on now, — under all my other clothes. 
It won’t come off till I’m skinned.” 


SHOWING OFF. 


115 


There was plenty of fun in Piney; and by the 
time about a quarter of it was out, Bi Hunter had 
decided not to try that lake in his “ nobby ” bathing- 
suit. There was really no need of it in that bush- 
hidden cove. There were woods behind the high 
shelving banks, and you could see the clean gravelly 
bottom through the clear, bright water. The suit 
was rolled up again ; and Bi seemed a little slow, 
after that, in making his preparations to go into 
the water. Piney fastened one end of the boat to 
the stem of a bush on shore ; and then it seemed to 
be hardly a minute before he gave a ringing shout, 
stepped lightly to the outer end, threw his heels 
into the air with a great spring, and went down, 
head first, through the splashing surface. 

“ What a dive that was ! ” exclaimed Bi, as the 
boat rocked vigorously under him. “ But why 
doesn’t he come up } Ah ! there he is.” 

There he was indeed, five or six rods away; for 
Piney was a little proud of his skill as a swimmer, 
and he could show off ” once in a while. 

“ I say,” said Bi, as he came pufhng back towards 
the boat, ‘‘can you swim under water.?” 

“ Of course I can, but you’ve got to have a good 
deep dive first. Come on in ! ” 

“ I’m a-coming,” said Bi decidedly ; but he did not 
try a “header” from the boat. He waded in a 
little slowly from the shore, and it seemed to make 


ii6 


AMONG THE LANES. 


aim half uncomfortable to find how quickly the 
water began to come up to his shoulders. 

Is it very deep ” he asked. 

‘‘ Splendid ! No danger of touching bottom any- 
where. I guess it’s twenty or thirty feet out here. 
See me tread water.” 

‘‘ How do you do that 1 ” 

“Just the same as if you were walking up stairs 
in a hurry. Why don’t you strike out ” 

“ They say fresh water’s harder to swim in than 
salt water is.” 

“ Salt water must be real easy, then. I wouldn’t 
care to have any thing easier’n this.” 

There was no help for it. Bi thought of his 
namesake the Chevalier Bayard, the knight “with- 
out fear and without reproach ; ” and he drew a long 
breath, and threw himself boldly forward. 

“Don’t strike so fast,” shouted Piney. “You’ll 
tire yourself out in less’n no time. Take it easy. 
Look at me.” 

So saying, he threw himself over upon his back, 
and darted away through the water in a manner that 
made his city cousin open his eyes. Now, however, 
that Bi had actually made a start, and had' discov- 
ered that he could swim in fresh water so much 
more easily than he had expected, he really began 
to enjoy it. He did not venture very far away from 
the shore or the boat ; but he was fast gaining con- 


A TEMPERANCE LESSON. 


II7 

fidence in himself, when Piney, who had been show- 
ing him how to “float,” suddenly rolled over and 
over, and struck out for the land. 

“ Are you tired ? ” asked Bi. 

“ No, I ain’t tired ; and, what’s more, I don’t 
mean to be. That’s all the swimming I want before 
breakfast. Let’s put on our clothes, and go for 
some fish.” 

Bi was willing enough to follow that kind of 
example, and they had brought with them plenty 
of tackle and bait. Neither of them was at all 
wearied by his morning bath ; and their dressing did 
not detain them long, after a minute or so of vigor- 
ous work with a crash towel. 

“You’ll soon learn,” said Piney. “All you need 
is practice. You must go in every morning while 
you’re out here.” 

“Won’t that be too much 1 ” 

“Well, you can’t always do it, you know. Be- 
sides, you mustn’t stay in too long. If a fellow 
knows enough to come out in time, it won’t hurt 
him. Then you’ll learn ten times as much as you 
would if you only went in now and then, and tired 
yourself half to death. I’ve known fellows malie 
themselves sick that way.” 

“Is this the way you learned 1 ” 

“It’s all the training I ever had. Don’t you 
think it’s enough } ” 


Il8 AMOXG THE LAKES. 

Bi thought it was, and he said so ; and now the 
warm sunshine that was pouring upon him felt won- 
derfully nice all over him. 

They pulled away to another spot, and anchored 
the boat for their fishing. The fish bit fairly well, 
as they are apt to do so early in the morning ; and, 
by the time Piney said they must start for the 
house, the two boys had quite a string of perch and 
pumpkin-seeds between them ; but the larger fish 
had probably all gone off for a swim of their own, 
or perhaps for their breakfast. 

“ We’ll have these for ours,” said Piney, if we 
get there in time to clean ’em. They’re always the 
nicest when they’re just out of the water.” 

“ So father says,” said Bi. ‘‘ He’s fonder of ’em 
than I am.” 

“Glad of it. There’ll be fresh eggs too, right 
from the nests.” 

Piney was more positive about the egg part of 
his breakfast than he would have been if he had 
known what was going on at the barnyard. He and 
Bi reached the landing, and hurried to the house 
with their fish. 

“ They’re very nice,” said aunt Keziah ; “ but 1 
do wish you’d go and call Roxy. She and Susie 
went out to the barn for eggs ever so long ago.” 

Piney started at once ; and Bi followed him, for 
sheer lack of any thing else to do, that he could 


A BATTERmC-RAM. 


II9 

think of just then. They reached the gate only a 
moment after the two girls came out of the barn. 

Susie’s first and foremost thought had been about 
the “bad sheep.” 

“There he is!” she exclaimed to Roxy. “He’s 
right in our way.” 

As she said that, she pointed straight at the very 
wicked animal with her little forefinger. 

Now, Piney’s pet ram was taught to consider a 
“ point ” as a sort of challenge ; and his woolly head 
and curling horns were lowered instantly. 

“ O Susie I ” screamed Roxy. “ What have you 
done He’s going to bunt.” 

Susie screamed also, and sprang away towards the 
gate, letting go of the basket-handle. Roxy looked 
about her for an instant in great perplexity ; but 
there was an old wagon-box lying near, bottom up, 
and she set the basket down upon the corner of 
that before she followed Susie. The ram had stood 
almost still a moment, shaking his threatening head 
and getting ready, so that the two girls were beyond 
his reach by the time he got through with Vv^hat 
Roxy called “making motions.” When he again 
looked up, all the enemy he could see to strike at 
was the basket of eggs on the corner of the old 
wagon-box. It was not pointing at him, to be sure, 
but it was there ; and, just as Piney and Bi looked 
over the gate, he charged for it full tilt. 


120 


AMONG THE LANES, 


If the old ram had been one of the crested 
knights whom Bi Hunter was so fond of reading 
about, he could not have made a fairer hit at a bas- 
ket. Of course he was stopped by the wagon-box ; 
but his hard head reached the basket, and the shock 
was a very bad affair for the eggs. The cover flew 
from the basket as it struck the ground, and its 
contents went out in all directions. 

Perhaps the “bad sheep’’ might even have fol- 
lowed his mischief farther, but that Piney darted in 
and caught him by the horns, scolding him as sharply 
as he had breath to, between his peals of laughter. 

“Bi,” he shouted, “come in and save what’s left 
of those eggs. Only about half of ’em are broken. 
Pick ’em up.” 

Bi was laughing hard too; but he came in and 
did his duty, with one eye on Piney and the ram. 

“Guess just about half of ’em are used up. 
Their shells weren’t made thick enough.” 

“ Not for his head. Don’t I wish the folks at the 
house could have seen it! — You old horny-headed 
rascal ! I’ll have to tie you up.” 

“ Susie pointed at him,” said Roxy. “ I told her, 
but she forgot.” 

“ He remembered, then. Now, Bi, you get back 
outside the gate. If he once gets a-going, there’s 
no stopping him. He’ll butt at every thing he can 
see now, all day long.” 


LEFT TO HIMSELF. 


121 


“ He is the very worst sheep I ever saw,” re- 
marked Susie. 

“Yes, he is,” said Roxy; “but he’s afraid of 
Piney. He won’t even bunt at him when he lets 

go-” 

Piney was not so sure about that kind of forbear- 
ance, but what he led his pet close to the gate before 
losing hold of the horns. Then he gave a sharp, 
sudden shove, and got out of the way ; and the ram 
had the whole barnyard to himself. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


BI ON THE BALL-GROUND. 

Grandfather Hunter and uncle Liph made 
any amount of fun at the breakfast-table over the 
conduct of the “bad sheep,” and the sad fate of 
the eggs; but they all listened to what Susie had 
to tell about the nests, and Piney’s “frauds.” 

Then Bi told his father what a splendid swim he 
had had. 

“ Keep it up, Bayard,” said his father. “ That’s a 
good beginning.” 

“ But, Piney,” said his mother, “ what will he find 
to do to amuse himself while you are at school } ” 

“ Oh ! he can come right along to the village with 
me. There’ll be a game of ball on the green.” 

“Yes,” added Mary Hunter; “and he can take a 
letter for me to the post-office.” 

“That’s so,” remarked grandfather; “and there 
may be letters there for some of the rest of us. 
I’d like to get one from your grandmother.” 

“ I left her safe in Boston,” said uncle Liph ; 


122 


THE JUNIOR PARTNER. 


123 


*‘but she may have written. I’d like to hear from 
Mr. Sadler about business already. It seems as if 
I’d been gone a week.” 

“He is your junior partner now, is he not.^” 
asked Piney’s mother. 

“Yes; and he has more of the management in 
his hands, all the time, than I have. I trust him 
entirely. He is a very excellent young man.” 

“Young men, nowadays, ain’t what they used to 
be,” remarked aunt Keziah ; but both grandfather 
Hunter and aunt Sarah had a good word to say in 
Mr. Sadler’s behalf, and Piney made up his mind 
that his uncle’s junior partner must be somebody 
remarkable. 

Immediately after breakfast he and Bi started for 
the village. 

“ This is Monday,” he said, as they went along. 
“ I wouldn’t give nriuch for all the boys’ll learn to- 
day, and to-morrow and next day.” 

“ Why not 1 ” asked Bi. 

“ Oh ! these last days of the term don’t count for 
any thing, ’cept just the being there. They’re all 
kind of afraid of examination. I know I am. It’s 
too late, though, to do any thing on our reviews. 
Besides, we’re thinking of the exhibition and vaca- 
tion, and all sorts of things.” 

“ What’s the exhibition to be } ” 

“Well, I don’t know. We always have one. 


24 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


There’ll be speaking pieces and dialogues, and sing- 
ing and music and visitors, and all that sort of thing. 
Sometimes I think there’s fun in it, and then some- 
times I don’t.” 

‘‘ Are you going to speak a piece } ” 

“ Of course I am : I always do. But I’ve got a 
short one this time, — shorter than Roxy’s.” 

“ Is she to speak too ? ” 

“ Roxy "i Why, she wouldn’t miss it for any thing. 
I say, can you play base-ball } ” 

“ Oh, yes ! I belong to a club.” 

Bi was more than a little pleased to speak of 
something in the line of out-of-door sports in which 
he could safely believe himself to be an expert. 

“A regular club.?” said Piney, brightening up. 
“Now, Bi, do you know I’m out-and-out glad of 
that .? ” 

“What for.?” 

“Well, I’ll tell you. I wish you’d just take a 
little of the nonsense out of Kyle Wilbur and the 
other fellows. They’ll be sure to think you can’t 
play worth a cent, ’cause you’re from the city, you 
know.” 

“ All right, Piney. I’ll try and show ’em some- 
thing.” 

There was a growing look of determination on his 
face, as Piney asked him, — 

“ What can you do best .? ” 


HOOKEY 1 HOW MANY? 


125 


I don’t care where they put me. In our club 
we change places all over the field. A fellow learns 
it all if he’s got it in him. Some fellows never can 
learn, somehow.” 

Well, so do we, of course ; but it’s all irregular. 
We play just as it happens.” 

“ Are you a good player } ” 

“How do I know.? I never saw anybody play 
but our boys.” 

That was dodging the question, as Bi found out 
afterwards ; for Piney was by all odds the best hand 
of his age in the whole academy, at either bat or 
ball, or in the “ field.” That morning, however, he 
was in something of a hurry, and did not seem 
inclined to do much talking. 

“There’s the post-office,” he said, as they entered 
the village, — “over there by the tavern. The 
southern stage’ll be in with the mail in an hour or 
so. It’ll take ’em about another hour to distribute 
it. If I were you. I’d wait for all that before I went 
there.” 

“That’s what I’ll do. Any letters that left the 
city Saturday will get here by that mail.” 

“ Guess they will. I say, Bi, look at the boys on 
the green. I wonder how many of em’ll cut their 
lessons this morning ! I won’t, now.” 

In fact, he never did cut them ; and his rosy face 
was one of the sure things to be seen in its plac9 


126 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


in his class every time. Kyle Wilbur, however, and 
Bill Young, and some others of the academy boys, 
— not to speak of the village boys who were not in 
school at all, — were more in a state of mind for 
base-ball than for books that morning, it was so very 
near to vacation. 

Piney introduced his cousin to two or three of 
them ; and they were quite polite, in their way, 
about asking him to take a hand in the game. Kyle 
Wilbur said to Bill Young, in a very low tone, 
aside, — 

“Of course he can’t play, you know. He’s from 
the city. But then he’s a stranger, and he’s Piney 
Hunter’s cousin. He won’t be much in the 
way.” 

“Well, yes, we’ve got to take him in, I s’pose. 
But it’s kind o’ too bad. The other side’ll beat us 
all hollow. He’s just a city dandy, and he’ll be get- 
ting us put out all the while.” 

“Just so,” said Kyle. “Can’t help it, though. 
I won’t go back on Piney, game or no game.” 

“All right. Go ahead.” 

Bi did not hear that conversation, nor did he 
seem to notice the glances that followed every 
movement he made. He took off his coat and vest, 
displaying for the criticism of the village boys a 
remarkably showy pair of suspenders. Then his 
collar and necktie and cuffs were taken off, and 


BI PITCHES m. 


127 


carefully stuffed into his coat-pockets ; and he rolled 
up his trousers a little. 

'^What a dandy he is!” remarked Bill Young. 
** I say, mister, you’d better put all that rigging of 
yours away somewhere,” 

'‘Hang it on a tree,” said Kyle. “Nobody’ll 
touch it. There ain’t no thieves ’round here. — Bill, 
they’ve won the toss. We’re out, to begin on.” 

“Well, who cares I s’pose Frank Jones’ll catch 
for our side. Pity Piney Hunter isn’t here to pitch 
for us.” 

Piney had already walked across the green towards 
the academy, and his services were out of the 
question. It was a large white building, with a 
“chunky” looking bell-tower on top of it; and in 
another moment he disappeared through its wide 
front door. 

“ I’ll have to pitch,” said Bill. 

“ You can’t pitch worth a cent,” replied Kyle 
bluntly. “ I say, mister, didn’t I hear Piney call 
you Bi .? ” 

“ Shouldn’t wonder if you did.” 

“ Well, Bi, can you pitch 1 ” 

“I’ll try it on. If I can’t, I guess you can find 
it out.” 

“I guess so. — Hullo, Frank! Boys, I say, 
Piney Hunter’s cousin’s going to pitch ! ” 

The matter seemed to be settled at once and Bi 


128 


AMONG THE LANES. 


felt a sort of tingle in his fingers as he picked up 
the ball and took his place. If there was any one 
accomplishment in which he felt sure he could beat 
all Parable Centre, and all the region round about, 
it was in the pitching of a base-ball. He was not 
so very far out of the way, and Frank Jones began 
to get some such notion when he made his catch 
of the first ball Bi pitched at him. It came like a 
young cannon-shot, and Frank was lucky in having 
strong, well-toughened fingers. They had been 
seasoned properly, however ; and their owner was 
startled into shouting exultingly, — 

‘Ht’s all right, boys. Piney’s dandy knows how 
to pitch.” 

Frank blushed crimson the moment his queer 
speech was out of his mouth ; but Bi muttered, — 

“Dandy.? Is that it.? Wait till I get hold of 
that bat, and if I don’t show ’em ! Why, they’re a 
lot of slouches.” 

They were not quite so bad as that ; but not one 
of that crowd of country boys had ever seen a 
match-game played by a “professional nine,” nor 
had they been taught a single lesson by a trained 
instructor. Such a thing as “schooling” in base- 
ball had never entered their heads, and Bi Hunter 
had all that advantage over them. 

It was not a very great while after the play 
began, that, as Piney Hunter passed close to one of 


CAPTAIN! 


129 


the academy windows, after doing some work on 
the blackboard, he heard a great cheer from the 
boys out upon the green. He could not help look- 
ing through the window to see what was up. 

“ Bi’s got the bat,” he said to himself. See 
him run ! ” 

A “run ” it was ; but the cheer was given for the 
manner in which he had batted that ball. 

“Bully for the dandy!” shouted Frank Jones; 
but Bill Young grumbled surlily, — 

“ Oh, well I it’s nothing but a sort of a trick. 
Them city fellers pick up lots of tricks. I’ll bet he 
can’t do it again.” 

He would 'have surely lost any such wager, for 
Bi did something very much like it every time his 
turn came to him. Instead of losing the game for 
his side, as had been prophesied, they were all ready, 
at the end of it, to elect him captain of their nine. 

The best players, take them all around, were 
plainly upon the other side ; and they were making 
some changes that the boys told Bi were likely to 
make the matter worse. His blood was thoroughly 
up now, dandy or no dandy; and he began to “cap- 
tain ” his nine in a way they had never been accus- 
tomed to. They would not have stood it for a 
moment under any other circumstances, or if he 
had not showed himself so good a player, and if he 
had not been so complete a stranger. Even Piney 


130 


AMOATG THE LAKES, 


Hunter would not have been obeyed as Bi was by 
that very unruly little army. Bill Young rebelled at 
first ; but Kyle Wilbur put him down with, — 

“Now; Bill, that yaller dog of your’n can beat 
you pitching. His mouth’s always open too, just 
like your’n. — I say, Bi, — mister, — if you’ll just 
let him wear them galluses of yours, he’ll be quiet.” 

“ My what 1 Oh ! you mean my suspenders. Can’t 
take ’em off just now. We must whitewash that 
crowd this time. Come on, boys.” 

“ He’s played ball before,” sagely remarked Frank 
Jones. “ He knows what he’s about. Guess it’s all 
a humbug about his being a feller from the city.” 

When Piney came out, at the noon recess, he was 
proud enough to hear Kyle Wilbur’s glowing account 
of the manner in which his cousin had distinguished 
himself. 

“ Bi,” said he, “ I’ll tell aunt Kezi, and all of ’em, 
when we get home. Now, I’li tell you what : I’ve 
got to stay for the afternoon session, but there’s time 
for us to go to the post-office before I eat my lunch.” 

The post-office of the village of Parable Centre 
was a queer sort of place ; at least, it seemed so to 
Bi. It consisted of nothing but one corner of a 
grocery-store, fenced off from the rest, and fitted 
up with drawers and boxes. 

“That’s our box,” said Piney, as they went in, — 
“ the one marked ‘ A.’ ” 


A VERY ODD MAIL. 


I3I 

Just then the postmaster stuck his head around 
the corner of the partition, and exclaimed, — 

‘‘I say, Piney, your box is cram -jam full; and 
here’s a swad of things that wouldn’t go in. You’ve 
got some visitors, hain’t ye ? ” 

“Yes,” said Piney, “we’ve got ’em. — Bi, what a 
stack of magazines and newspapers ! Do you 
always get as many as that ? ” 

“ No, sir,” said Bi, as he began to glance over the 
heap of envelopes and little bundles. “A good 
many of ’em are for father and mother and grand- 
father. Some of ’em are for me.” 

“ But what a lot of ’em are for cousin Mary ! She 
can’t read ’em all in a week.” 

Certainly not, unless she should give all her time 
to it, and skim some of those pamphlets rather 
carelessly. There was a queer look upon Bi’s face, 
but he did not say any thing. Still, it somehow 
occurred to Piney to notice, that, while Mary seemed 
to have so much more than her fair share of the 
printed matter, all addressed to her in the same 
handwriting, she had not so much as one solitary 
letter. 

“Now, Bi,” he said, “I’ll go back and eat my 
lunch, and you’d better go home to dinner. Why 
can’t you go out in the boat alone, and have a good 
time fishing.!^ I do, every chance I can get.” 

“ Guess I will,” said Bi. “ I can take care of my- 
self. But I’ll be glad when your vacation gets here.” 


CHAPTER XIV 

UP AND DOWN THE ROAD. 

Whether in city or in country, it is all the same, 
— Monday is washing-day. 

Uncle Liph told Roxy it was “constitutional” 
to have it so ; and as soon as she and Susie were 
out upon the lawn after breakfast, she asked her 
cousin, — 

“ What did your papa mean ? What is ^ con- 
stirootional ’ ? ” 

“ ‘ Stutional,’ ” said Susie, correcting her. “ Why 
it means that you can’t help it. It’s like grandma’s 
cough.” 

“ Oh, that’s it ! Well, aunt Keziah won’t go 
walking with us till all the clothes are hung out.” 

Aunt Keziah, however, was a woman who was 
likely to begin that kind of work pretty early in 
the morning. On that particular Monday she had 
a woman come over from the village to help Ann ; 
and so, by the middle of the forenoon, all the lines 
that were stretched between the trees and fence- 


132 


UP THE ROAD. 


133 


posts in the back-yard were white with the fruit 
of the wash-tub, — only that some of them were red 
or checked in places, here and there. 

It’s a big washing,” said Susie. Are all those 
little stockings yours ? ” 

“No, they ain’t: some of ’em are Chub’s. One 
day there was a chair left under the line ; and 
Piney’s big Shang-high rooster jumped up on it, 
and he pulled down all my stockings off the line.” 

“ What did he do it for } ” 

“ I don’t know. Piney said he was a poor heathen 
Chinee, and didn’t know any better. But then he 
crowed about it.” 

“ Roxy, are we all going walking } ” 

“I guess we ain’t. Uncle Liph, and mother, and 
grandpa are going out a-riding by and by. But aunt 
Keziah and cousin Mary said they’d go with us.” 

“ I’m glad of that. It’ll be real nice. Only I do 
hope we won’t meet any bad sheep.” 

“ There ain’t any. We’ve got the only one there 
is.” 

Roxy seemed almost inclined to be proud of that 
fact, if it were one. 

It was not long before aunt Keziah called them 
in, to see if they were ready for their walk; and 
then, with Chub himself toddling along ahead of 
them, they all marched through the gate and up 
the road. 


134 


AMONG THE LANES. 


** Isn’t it beautiful ! ” exclaimed Mary to aunt 
Keziah. “ I do so love the country ! ” 

‘‘You’d better make up your mind to stay in it, 
then,” said aunt Keziah. “ I’d never settle down 
in the city to spend my days there, if I were you.” 

“We can’t always know what is coming to us,” 
said Mary ; and she looked very hard, while she 
spoke, at the top of a big tree across the road. “ Is 
that an oak ? ” 

“ Oak ? Sakes alive ! Why, it’s a sugar-maple. 
You might as well have taken it for an apple-tree.” 

“ Oh ! ” said Mary. “ So it is.” 

“Susie,” said Roxy, “do you ever go out a-walk- 
ing when you’re at home in the city ? ” 

“ Why, yes, of course I do. We walk everywhere, 
all over.” 

“ Is it as nice as this is } ” 

“Well, you can’t see any grass there, nor any 
thistles, or fences, except iron fences and railings.” 

“ Can you see the city ? ” 

“ Why, it’s all city. There are houses and stores, 
and show-windows with ever so many nice things in 
them.” 

“ Candy, and new bonnets, and cake, and dolls ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! and the drug-stores have big red and 
green and blue and yellow bottles in the windows ; 
and all the street-cars carry you anywhere for five 
cents.” 


CHUB AND HIS FRIENDS. 


135 


‘‘Well, but what do they do with you when you 
haven’t got any five cents ? ” 

“ Oh ! you always have five cents in the city, — 
even when you walk. I’ve been shopping into all 
I he stores, with mamma and Mary.” 

“ What’s to shopping } ” asked Roxy. 

“ Oh, well ! it’s to go everywhere, and buy what 
you came for, and look at every thing you didn’t 
come for. Only mamma and Mary always come 
away before they’ve seen every thing. I wouldn’t.” 

“ I wouldn’t either,” said Roxy. “ I’d stay till I’d 
seen all there was.” 

“ Why, aunt Keziah ! ” exclaimed Mary. “ Where 
is Chub running to } What queer people they are ! 
Does he know them ? ” 

“ Those Oh! they’re nothing but Indians from 
the Reservation. It’s Piney’s friend Hawknose 
John, that he was talking of. The little one is the 
Woodchuck, and the two women are their squaws.” 

“The tall man has picked up Chub. He won’t 
hurt him ? ” 

“Hurt him.? No, indeed. I only hope he hasn’t 
any maple-sugar in his pocket. He’s always giving 
Chub something.” 

They had quickened their pace, and were pretty 
near the little squad of Onondagas. Roxy herself 
tripped on ahead of them ; but Susie was contented 
to take hold of her grown-up sister’s dress, and walk 


136 


AMONG THE LANES. 


beside her. The two squaws had each a burden to 
carry ; for on each pair of shoulders, tightly held 
in a blanket in spite of the heat of the day, there 
nestled a bit of a brown-faced baby. 

“ Oh, the pappooses ! ” exclaimed Roxy. See 
’em, Susie.?” 

“ Why, how funny they are ! ” 

should think they would melt under those 
blankets, such a day as this,” said aunt Keziah ; 
“ but they don’t. Indians take naturally to blankets.” 

Mary was really interested in the pappooses ; and 
the two squaws smiled very pleasantly as the ladies 
patted their dusky babies, but neither of them 
uttered a word. 

“ Mine,” said Hawknose John, pointing to one. 
“ Real Onondaga. Woodchuck’s,” he added, point- 
ing to the other disdainfully. “ Half of him Oneida. 
How boy like bow ? Ugh ! Break window yet .? ” 

“No, John,” said aunt Keziah; “but he shot a 
pickerel, — biggest one I’ve seen in a year.” 

“ Ugh ! Good. Boy make Indian some day.” 

Mary ventured to say, — 

“ But we do not wish him to be an Indian. He 
is white.” 

“Good. Can’t be Onondaga. Better be white 
than s’pose Oneida, like Woodchuck. Ugh ! ” 

“ Oneida good,” grunted the short Indian. 
“Hawknose John ’teal a cow.” 


GOOD OLD TIMES. 


137 


*^How!” exclaimed his tall companion, with a 
rapid volley of harsh guttural words in his own lan- 
guage. 

‘‘That’ll do, John,” said aunt Keziah. “You and 
the Woodchuck are always quarrelling.” 

“Bad little Indian. Tell big lie. Better keep 
eye on handsome young squaw. Woodchuck ’teal 
her. Heap worse’n ’teal cow.” 

He did not condescend to smile, but there was a 
keen twinkle of fun in his beady black eyes ; and 
aunt Keziah said, — 

“No, John; but he’d better look out, or we will 
steal his pappoose. What will you take for yours 'i ” 

“Potatoes,” said John gravely. “All can carry 
\n big bag.” 

“ That’s what you made me give you for Piney’s 
DOW,” laughed aunt Keziah. “ I won’t make any 
more bargains with you. You might carry off the 
farm.” 

“ Good. Ugh ! S’pose I did ^ Indian own him 
all once. Trade him to aunt Keziah grandfather 
for blanket and old gun, — rum too, mebbe. All 
tree, den. Plenty deer. Plenty Onondaga. Indian 
no pick berry, and trade bow for potatoes : keep 
bow to kill deer.” 

“He isn’t so far wrong, Mary. Your great- 
grandfather used to trade a good deal with the 
Indians.” 


13 ^ 


AMONG THE l^^KES. 


‘'But, aunt Keziah,” said Roxy, “we don’t want 
any Indian babies in our house, do we ? ” 

“Why not, Roxy?” said Mary. “That’s a reai 
pretty one.” 

“Oh, yes!” exclaimed Susie. “Buy it, and we’ll 
take it with us to the city.” 

“We never could grow it up at our house, any- 
how,” said Roxy. 

“Wouldn’t it eat?” asked Susie. “Not even if 
you gave it milk ? Couldn’t Piney tame it for 
you ? ” 

Hawknose John’s squaw had been listening; and 
she now broke out into a merry fit of laughter, as 
she shook her head, and drew her blanket tighter 
around her little one. She had not said a word ; 
for that would have been contrary to Indian custom, 
in the presence of her husband. Both she and the 
other squaw started off down the road, followed 
pretty quickly by Hawknose John and the Wood- 
chuck. Chub trotted after them for a rod or two, 
chattering and calling to them ; but they did not 
look back. 

“ I’m glad we met them,” said Mary. 

“Susie,” said Roxy, “what sort of Indians do you 
have in the city ? ” 

“ Only wooden ones.” 

“ Wooden ones ? Wooden Indians ? ” 

“Yes. They have ’em stand on the sidewalk 


NAPii ULL AROUND. 


139 


for signs, before all the tobacco-stores. But then, 
we’ve got all the other kinds of men.” 

“ What other kinds } ” 

“ Oh ! every kind, — Chinese, and soldiers, and 
firemen, and policemen, and letter-carriers, and all 
sorts of men.” 

Do they all dress like Indians 1 ” 

“Why, no, of course they don’t. Some of ’em 
wear tin on their hats, but then it’s made up real 
pretty, ’stead of hanging loose like the Wood- 
chuck’s. They wear feathers, too, sometimes ; that 
is, the soldiers do. O Roxy, you ought to see them 
march ! ” 

“ Ain’t you afraid of ’em 1 ” 

“ No : they never hurt anybody. But you’ve 
always got to get out of their way, — unless you’ve 
got a street-car; then you don’t.” 

There was a great plenty for the girls to talk 
about ; but it would not do to take too long a walk, 
if only because Chub was with them. So after aunt 
Keziah had led them to the top of a little hill, and 
showed them a glimpse of the next lake, away in the 
distance, they all made the best of their way home. 

Tlie children, indeed, were willing to follow 
Chub’s good example, and have a nap. They had 
risen early that morning, and had been as busy as 
two bees ever since ; and it was now nearly noon. 

The sleepers had taken nearly naps enough all 


140 


AMONG THE LANES. 


around, and Bayard Hunter was half way home 
with his load of papers and letters, when Piney, 
who had hurried a little in eating his noon luncheon, 
returned to the schoolroom. He had opened his 
desk for a book, and was shutting the lid down 
again, when he saw Kyle Wilbur coming in and 
taking his seat. 

“ Coming to school this afternoon, are you } ” said 
Piney. 

“ Guess I am. If we fellows should stay and 
play ball again, now that there cousin of yours has 
cleared out, they’d whale us.” 

“ That’s it, is it Well, how’ll you feel on exam- 
ination ” 

“ Guess Pm ready for all we’re likely to get. 
Besides, I can answer a pile of questions, if they’ll 
only ask me the right ones.” 

‘‘ But, s’pose they don’t ” 

‘‘Then, I hope they won’t ask me any. How’s a 
fellow to remember a thing for two or three months, 
I’d like to know, and answer questions on it } I 
can’t.” 

“That’s about what we come to school for, 
though,” said Piney. 

“ Well,” said Kyle, with energy, “ I wish I could 
hit a question in ’rithmetic the way that there city 
cousin of yours hits a ball. I’d just knock it clean 
out of the ’cademy.” 


GLORY I 


I4I 

“ There’s nothing like knowing how,” said Piney. 
“ Can he pitch ? ” 

Pitch ? Well, Frank Jones says he doesn’t want 
to catch for him again till his hands get over it.” 

Bi had earned a reputation. 


CHAPTER XV. 

EXPLORATION AND DISCOVERY. 

Bi was a good post-boy. He took the pains to 
assort his mail before reaching the house, so that 
he was able to deliver each person’s share at once. 

“ Any letters, Mary ? ” asked aunt Sarah. 

‘‘Not one, mother; but we shall have plenty to 
read.” 

“ I should say so.” 

Perhaps the, quantity and other peculiarities of 
Mary’s “ mail ” might have drawn out more remarks 
if all the others had not been so very busy with 
letters and things of their own. Besides, it was 
nearly dinner-time ; and she was able to smuggle the 
whole lot up stairs, with the remark that she would 
attend to them by and by. The dinner-table itself 
was a busy place, and full of talk ; for the base-ball 
game, and the village, and the news from town, and 
even the morning walk and the Indians, had to be 
discussed. Mary did not seem to be in any sort of 
hurry to get off ; and it was a full half-hour after 

143 


TOO MUCH LITERA Tl RE. 


143 


dinner, before she slipped away from the rest, and 
found her way again to her own room. 

There they lay on the bed, all those papers and 
pamphlets. It was curious that the latter should 
all have their leaves carefully cut open, so there 
should be less trouble in reading them. It was 
just so with a couple of novels that came along with 
the magazines, and Mary noticed it. 

Every one of them,” she said to herself, but 
she did not seem inclined to say any thing more. 
And, what was odder still, she took both of the 
novels in her hands, went to the window, and sat 
down ; and then, instead of reading either of the 
books, she just sat still and stared out at the lake. 

Grandfather Hunter and uncle Liph, and aunt 
Sarah and Piney’s mother, went for a drive in the 
carryall soon after dinner. Aunt Keziah had a 
great deal to do about the house ; and Roxy and 
Susie got hold of some old picture-books, — a great 
heap of them, — twice as many as they could get 
through in one day. 

Bi was left entirely to his own resources, there- 
fore, as Piney could not be expected home until 
nearly four o’clock. He declared tc himself that 
he was not sorry at all, and took Piney’s advice. 
He got out his rod and fishing-tackle, and dug some 
bait, and started for the lake. That, was the last 
anybody at the house saw of him that afternoon. 


144 


AMONG THE LANES, 


When Piney did at last come home, and asked 
after him, and when aunt Keziah told him, he 
exclaimed, — 

“Gone a-fishing, has he? Well, I’m just glad of 
it. I’m going right up-stairs to my room.” 

“ Why, Piney, you ain’t sick ? ” 

“ I’m pretty nigh sick of algebra. One of these 
problems has about stuck me. I can’t make it go, 
and I can’t give it up.” 

“ Don’t you do it, Piney ! ” 

“ I won’t. S’pose I got it put to me on examina- 
tion ? Besides, I’ll tell you what, aunt Kezi, I ain’t 
a-going to let myself be whipped, anyhow, by a lot 
of mere equations and roots and things.” 

“That’s you, Piney. That’s you,” said she ear- 
nestly. “Don’t you ever give up to any sort of 
thing, not so long as you live.” 

She, herself, was one of those people who do 
not give up very easily ; and Piney’s rosy face 
looked, at that moment, as if he were in a fair way 
to become another of them. They are a very use- 
ful kind of people. 

“ I’ll beat it,” said Piney. 

“ Stick to it,” she responded ; but her hand was 
upon his shoulder now, and she was looking straight 
into his eyes. It was the best sort of encourage- 
ment for a young fellow like him ; and when he 
hurried up-stairs, book in hand, there was very little 


DRIFTING, 


MS 

):hance left for a victory over Piney Hunter by that 
prol)lem in algebra. 

During all those hours of that summer afternoon, 
Bi had been having the boat to himself, and the 
whole lake too, for that matter; for there was no- 
body but himself to be seen upon it. Somehow or 
other, however, after he found himself floating off, 
all alone and independent, he did not seem to care 
whether he caught any fish or not. 

don’t believe they bite much at this time of 
day,” he muttered, as he leaned over and looked 
down into the water. “Besides, it’s better fun to 
kind o’ just paddle along and see things.” 

It was a quiet kind of fun ; but there was plenty 
of it, and it did not call for any very hard work. 
The scow slipped along over the water quite easily. 
Every now and then Bi ceased rowing entirely, and 
let her float. 

There was no work at all in drifting and looking 
about him. Away up, over his head, a great hen- 
hawk w^s sailing around in wide, slow circles, watch- 
ing the earth for prey of some sort. Some crows 
were cawing along the opposite shore. On a dead 
limb of a tree, that leaned out from the nearest 
bank, sat a kingfisher peering down into the water. 
A little farther on, he could see three good-sized 
snapping-turtles, sunning themselves all upon the 
same half-sunken log. Twice already he had seen 


146 


AMONG THE LANES. 


a muskrat put his nose above the water, and he had 
wondered what it could be. 

There!” he suddenly exclaimed. “That pick- 
erel sprang clean out of the water. Must have been 
after a fly. Isn’t this great now.? Why, Tm dr.’ft- 
ing away down the lake.” 

So he was ; and that did not mean that he was 
drifting very far, for the lake was little more than 
a mile long, and hardly more than half as wide. 
It was very irregular in shape ; and there was quite 
a streteh of marsh, with bushes and flags growing 
all over it, at the southern end. That was where 
Piney had told Bi there was always good rabbit- 
hunting in winter ; and he now took his oars again, 
and pulled away to have a look at it. 

There was no need for him to over-exert himself ; 
and pretty soon he came to a sort of opening in the 
long line of the marsh, and it seemed almost a 
matter of course that he should steer the scow 
right in. It grew narrower as he went on, until it 
was little more than a hundred feet wide. 

“ There ! ” he exclaimed at last. “ I guess I 
know what this is. It’s where the river goes out. 
I’ll push right along down, and see what I’ll come 
to.” 

It was grand fun now. Bi hardly ever before felt 
more thoroughly excited. It seemed to him a good 
deal as if he had discovered that river, and was the 


A GOOD HIT. 


147 


first man to row a boat into it. He thought of 
Hendrik Hudson, and De Soto, and Christopher 
Columbus, and John C. Fremont, and a great many 
other explorers. 

“ What fun it would be to find the north pole ! ” 
he said to himself. Only I’d like to go there in 
June, and be sure of getting back home in time for 
.supper.” 

A great many people would like to travel, and 
discover things, if they could arrange their trips in 
some such way as that ; but it can’t be done very 
well, — not, at least, until we invent something 
faster than steamships and express-trains. They 
are so dreadfully slow ! If one could but travel by 
telegraph, now ! 

It was soon altogether plain to Bi, that he had 
really made his way out into the -river; for the water 
now ran pretty fast, and it was shallow, especially 
in some places. 

*‘I wonder if this wouldn’t be a good spot to fish 
in,” he said to himself. “ It’s wonderfully lonely.” 

Bi had hit it. That was one of the best fishing- 
grounds around the lake at that time of day; and 
hardly anybody knew it, or went there to spoil it. 
He was not much of a fisherman ; but the fish 
themselves took care of that matter, and he was 
fairly delighted with his success. To be sure, he 
caught a great many shiners ” not more than eight 


148 


AMONG THE LANES, 


inches long, and bullheads and pumpkin-seeds. 
Then up came a sucker that weighed nearly a 
pound. After that, there were some pretty good 
yellow perch, and the largest bullhead he had seen 
since his arrival. Then he was puzzled woefully, 
for his next capture was an eel of the liveliest sort. 
Such a wriggler as that eel had never before been 
in Bi’s hands. Hardly was he over the side of the 
boat before he had himself all tangled up in the 
line, and he refused to lie still anywhere. He had 
no idea of permitting the hook to be taken out of 
his mouth. He had got that hook, and he meant 
to keep it, much as Bi wanted it. 

“ I never want to catch another like you,” said 
Bi to his prize. “ Be quiet, won’t you ! There, I’ve 
got my foot on him.” 

That was about the only way he could have done 
it, and it was by no means easy then. Still it was 
done ; and, the moment the hook was out, that eel 
seemed to get over all the bottom of the boat in a 
twinkling. 

“They’re good to eat,” said Bi ; “but I wish I 
knew how to bait my hook so they wouldn’t touch 
it.” 

That was one secret he did not know, however ; 
and it might be doubted if even Piney could have 
told him, or any other country boy. Three times 
more, before he pulled up the anchor- of his boat. 


BA/T USED UP! 


149 


he was forced to bother himself ever so long with 
the task of taking off an eel. He hurt his fingers 
too, a little, on some of his bullheads ; but he did 
not mind that so much. 

“Guess I’ve hurt them worse’n they have me,” 
he said; “and I’ve pulled in a lot of ’em. Don’t I 
wish Piney could have come with me ! Wonder if 
he knows any thing about this place.” 

He did not know much about Piney Hunter, or 
he never would have said that. There was not a 
corner of any of those lakes that Piney was not 
familiar with. 

At last the young fisherman discovered that his 
bait had disappeared. The last worm was gone, and 
that was the end of it ; but he had a comfortable 
feeling that he had made a fairly good use of them. 

“Five o’clock!” he exclaimed, as he stared at 
his watch. “ Well, I’ve used up this afternoon at 
a great rate. I guess I’d better start for the house, 
but I needn’t be in any hurry about it. Shouldn’t 
wonder if my face were a little sunburned, by the 
way it feels.” 

Sunburned ? He should have had a glass to look 
at it in. He looked more like a near relation of 
Piney Hunter than he had ever before in all his 
life. The sun and the bright water had been doing 
their best for him ; and perhaps Piney himself was 
indebted to them for a fair share of his brilliant 


AMONG THE LANES, 


150 

complexion. They and the winds are deadly ene- 
mies of all palenesses, and you only need give them 
a fair opportunity. 

Bi Hunter rowed the old scow very leisurely out 
of the river, and into the lake and homeward. He 
drew near the landing at last, and there were Roxy 
and Susie waiting for him. They had wearied of 
their pile of picture-books, and were out for a 
romp. 

Cousin Bi,” shouted Roxy, “it’s almost supper- 
time, and I was afraid you had lost yourself.” 

“ Oh, no ! ” said he, as he pulled to the landing. 
* I didn’t lose myself, but I went and found some 
f.sh.” 

“ What } ” exclaimed Roxy. “ Can you catch fish 1 
I wouldn’t have thought you could. Susie told me 
robody ever caught any in the city.” 

“ No,” said Susie, “ they don’t. We buy all our 
fish ready caught. It doesn’t take half so long as 
it does to catch them.” 

“ What do you think of that ? ” asked Bi, as they 
peered into the boat. 

“Why,” said Roxy, “you’ve caught some eels. 
— Look at ’em, Susie. They’re just like snakes, 
and they’ll slip right away from you if you pick 
them up.” 

“They’re awful,” said Susie. “I don’t want to 
pick them up.” 


SAJVn YOUR HAI^DS. 


I5I 

Wait, Bi,” said Roxy. “ I’ll run to the house 
for a pan.” 

Yes, please do.” 

She was off already, like a little curly-headed 
flash ; and she was back again with her pan by the 
time he had fastened his boat, and began to pick 
over his fish. 

How can I ever pick up those eels } ” he ex- 
claimed doubtfully. 

“ Oh ! it’s just as easy. Piney picks ’em right up.” 

“ I’d like to know how he does it.” 

“Why, anybody knows that. He just gets his 
hands all covered with sand, and then the eels don’t 
slip. It’s because they slip so, that you can’t catch 
’em : that’s all.” 

“Sand.?” said Bi. “And I never once thought 
of it. Why, of course it’ll do it.” 

Sand was the correct thing to handle eels with, 
truly ; but he discovered that they had to be gripped 
pretty tightly even then. He was a proud boy when 
he showed his afternoon “luck” in the kitchen. 

“ Where’s Piney .? I want him to see ’em,” he 
said to aunt Keziah. 

“ He’s up-stairs, at work on his algebray. I’ll 
call him. He’s been at it long enough.” 

Piney came down when he was sent for ; but his 
first words to aunt Keziah were, — 

“ Well, I don’t care. I’ve whipped that problem.” 


152 


AMONG THE LANES. 


“ Have you ? ” 

O Piney ! ” shouted Roxy, come and look at 
Bi’s eels.” 

The tough mathematics had to go their own way 
after that, except that Piney remarked to Bi, — 

“ I had something to get hold of that was twice 
as slippery as they were. Took all the sand I had.” 

It isn’t every boy that has “ sand ” enough in his 
grip to stick to and capture an ugly thing in his 
algebra. 

There was a good deal to be said about the river, 
and the secret sort of. place where all those fish 
were caught ; and it was not nearly all said when 
the bell rang for supper. Bi knew it was supper- 
time a good while before he heard any bell. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

GREAT TRIALS COMING. 

Tuesday and Wednesday of that week passed 
very quietly indeed, but very pleasantly, at the 
farmhouse. The older people from the city had 
come away out there for a rest, and seemed inclined 
to take it as completely as they could, now they 
were there. The younger people found plenty of 
things to amuse themselves with, out of doors and 
in ; and there was not much that looked like “rest” 
in the way in which they went about it. Every now 
and then Roxy found an occasion for saying, — 

“I don’t care. Just wait till Piney’s vacation 
gets here ! ” but precisely what wonders were likely 
to happen then, she did not attempt to unfold. 

He himself was all the while wrestling away with 
his preparations for the dreaded examination. They 
used up his time so that he told Kyle Wilbur there 
had been no chance for him to practise his piece 
for the exhibition. 

“I’ve just worked at mine,” said Kyle, with a 

» 5 .? 


154 


AMONG THE LANES. 


long sigh. “ I dreamed I was blown up last night 
What do you think it really was ” 

“ Can’t guess,” said Piney. 

“ Why, you know how it is in the piece. I’d been 
looking round for my father, to ask if I’d got to 
stay on that burning deck any longer, till I’d just 
rolled myself out of bed. Bumped my head on the 
floor, awful, and waked up all the folks.” 

“Better’n being blown up, anyhow,” said Piney. 
‘‘You knew just where you was.” 

There was a great deal of solid truth in that. 

As for Bi, he had to do a good deal of taking care 
of himself, and he rather liked it. He went over to 
the village, on both of those days, to get the mail, 
and to have a game of base-ball ; and he found him- 
self getting to be a sort of old acquaintance among 
the boys on the green. It was remarkable how well 
they all seemed to know him by even the end of 
Tuesday’s game. When he reached the post-office 
on Wednesday, he found his sister Mary waiting for 
him. 

‘'Hullo, Mary!” he remarked. “What did you 
come for 1 ” 

“Oh I I thought I’d take a walk. I’ve sorted the 
letters and papers, and I’ve taken out all mine. 
You can carry the rest.” 

“Do you care to have a walk around the vil- 


SUSPICIOUS. 


155 


*‘No, Bi. I think I’d as lief go home. It’ll be 
dinner-time before we get there.” 

'' Oh ! there’s time enough. But then, there isn’t 
much to see in the village : it’s awful small.” 

“Yes, it’s very small.” 

“ Sha’n’t I carry your mail for you, Mary ? 
There’s a lot of it.” 

“No, thank you. I can carry it. We’re not in 
the city.” 

“No,” said Bi a little slyly; “but some of our 
city friends remember us when we’re away. That 
is, some of yours do. Not one of all my lady 
friends has sent me a single paper.” 

“ It’s too bad,” said Mary. “ Hadn’t you better 
write to some of them about it } ” 

Somehow or other it occurred to Bi, after that, 
that he had never known his sister to say less, dur- 
ing the same length of time, than she did while they 
were walking back to the house. It may have been 
just as well, too, considering how many things he 
himself had to talk about. Bi was beginning to 
learn something about the country, and he was 
ready to give his sister a full account of his discov- 
eries. 

“To-morrow’ll be a good day,” he said, as they 
got to the gate. “ Piney’s going to have the whole 
day to himself.” 

“Is he.? Where do you think he and you will 
go?” 


156 


AMONG THE LANES. 


‘^Well, I don’t exactly know. Guess we’ll make 
a good long trip out somewhere.” 

That’ll be splendid,” said Mary ; but she said it 
in a way that sounded as if she half hoped the 
“ trip ” might be a long one indeed. It was queer, 
for she could not have any good reason for wishing 
to be rid of those boys. 

A good many calculations had been made, as to 
what was to be done with that Thursday. Piney 
had determined to give up his books at last, and 
devote himself to his cousins all day long. 

‘‘We’d have a haying-time,” he said; “but the 
clover-field is all in, and they won’t begin cutting 
the big field till next week. Then I’ll show you 
some fun. Bi and I are going to the upper lakes. 
We may be gone all day.” 

Once again Mary seemed to feel and express an 
uncommon amount of pleasure over that very simple 
fact. 

The sun set in the usual place on Wednesday, 
but Piney shook his head when he saw him going 
down the last few yards of sky. 

“Too many red clouds,” he said to himself. “I 
guess I wouldn’t care to have too much hay out in 
my field to-morrow, if I had one. Still it may come 
off pleasant. All kinds of signs fail in a dry time.” 

So they do, but not always. When the people 
awoke next morning, at the farmhouse, it was not 


THERE^S THE GARRET. 


157 


the sunshine that awakened them. Not a bit was 
there to do it. They were waked by the heavy 
patter of rain upon the shingles of the roof; and, 
the moment aunt Keziah looked out of her window, 
she exclaimed, — 

“ I thought so ! That’s just what I said it would 
do. It won’t clear up before the middle of the 
afternoon, if it does then.” 

At the breakfast-table the people generally were 
somewhat still and quiet at first ; and Roxy felt 
called upon to remark, — 

‘‘ I don’t know what on earth we’ll do with you 
all to-day. Aunt Keziah says it’s just awful to have 
so many people rained in, at once, in one house.” 

‘‘So it is,” said aunt Sarah. “Elizabeth, what 
shall we do with the children } Picture-books ” 

“I’ll fix ’em,” said Piney. “We’ll make a good 
day of it, rain or no rain.” 

“What can you do.?” asked his mother. 

“ Do .? Why, mother, there’s the garret. There’s 
more fun there than we could use up in a week. — 
May we have the garret, aunt Keziah .? ” 

“Have it.? I should say so! You may turn it 
all out on the roof, if you’ll only keep those children 
out of the kitchen, and out of mischief. Take Bi 
and Mary up there too and find them something to 
play with.” 

“ And keep us out of mischief,” remarked Bi. 


158 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


‘‘It’ll be splendid!” exclaimed Mary. “Things 
must have been gathering up there for ever and 
ever so long.” 

“Ever since the house was built,” said aunt 
Keziah. “ I mean, ever since the first log house 
was built, right where this one stands now.” 

“ The garret wasn’t here then, was it ? ” said Bi. 

“No, but some of the things in it were. This 
part of the house was built a good deal later than 
that part. What we call the garret is only the 
upper part of the old house that took the place of 
the log cabin. People used to say it was haunted.” 

“ Haunted ? ” exclaimed Susie. “ Oh, aunt Ke- 
ziah I was it really } ” 

“Yes, it was dreadfully, till we got the right kind 
of a cat. She cleared ’em all out.” 

“ All the ghosts } ” 

“ All the only kind of ghosts we ever had in that 
garret. If you put cheese and things into any room 
you’ve got, the rats and mice’ll come there.” 

“That’s so,” said Bi. “They’ll haunt it.” 

Both he and Susie had looked at the rain ruefully 
enough that morning, but the mention of the gar- 
ret set their spirits all a-going again. Even cousin 
Mary had seemed a little “blue,” until she heard 
her aunts and her mother discussing the relics of 
ancient times, stored away in the queer old place 
Piney proposed to explore. 


AN ENCHANTED ISLAND. 


159 


** I say, Mary,” he remarked, “ you’d better wear 
your old clothes. The garret’s got as much dust in 
it as there is on the south road. We’ll be a nice- 
looking lot, all round, before we get through with 
it.” 

Roxy was inclined to wonder a little at the turn 
things were taking. The garret had always been a 
sort of forbidden field to her and Chub. It was an 
enchanted island which they were never permitted 
to land upon. They had, indeed, been taken ashore 
there two or three times, but not to explore, and 
not to remain long enough to know much about it. 

“ O Susie ! ” she exclaimed. “ I’d rather play in 
that garret than anywhere else in the world. We 
can take our dolls up there.” 

“ Our dolls .? What for .? ” 

‘‘Why, to dress ’em up. There’s just the splen- 
didest lot of old clothes up there you never saw ! ” 

So, not a great while after breakfast, Piney was 
ready, and led the way, and all the rest were ready 
to follow him. Back through the sitting-room and 
dining-room, and into the kitchen, they went in a 
noisy procession. 

“This is the old part of the house,” he said to 
Bi. “The stairs go up into the garret from the 
entry, beyond that door in the corner.” 

“ Why, is the garret only in the second story } ” 

“ Second } Why, there’s only a story and a. quar 


i6o 


AMONG THE LANES. 


ter out here. The house is only two stories any- 
where. But you never climbed steeper stairs in all 
your life.” 

“ That’s a fact,” said Bi, when the door was 
opened. “They’re more like a ladder than stairs.” 

“I’ll look out for Chub,” said cousin Mary. 
“ What a pokerish flight of stairs they are ! Were 
they always as bad as this ? ” 

“Well,” said Piney, “great-grandfather Hunter 
didn’t have any thing but a ladder. The log house 
he built here was a kind of fort too. The Indians 
attacked it once while he was in it.” 

“ I’ve heard of that,” said Mary. “ It was in the 
Indian War, wasn’t it ? ” 

“ No, it wasn’t any war exactly, but they’d quar- 
relled with him. They were pretty near neighbors 
of his in those days. They weren’t always good 
ones, either. Onondagas all around him, and no 
Reservation.” 

“ It’s a wonder there was any preservation,” said 
Mary, as she slowly climbed the stairs, and helped 
Chub to clamber up, one step at a time, beside her. 

If the stairs were pokerish, so was the garret, 
when they all got into it. There were two windows, 
to be sure, at the back end, and there had been two 
more in front ; but the latter had been darkened 
forever when the rest of the house was built against 
them, and the others had not been washed for many 


SWORDS AND SPINNING-WHEELS. l6l 

a long day. That darkened them a good deal ; but 
they had been glazed, in the first place, with small 
panes of greenish, old-fashioned glass. As for the 
room itself, the roof above was all the ceiling it 
could boast of, with the rafters uncovered ; and the 
rain was now pattering dismally upon the shingles. 

“ Cousin Mary,” exclaimed Roxy, “ can you spin ? 
Aunt Keziah can. That’s a spinning-wheel.” 

“ Why, there are three or four of them,” said 
Mary. And that must be a part of an old loom. 
Mother says that grandmother Merrill — that’s aunt 
Keziah’s mother — made all the linen and woollen 
cloth she used, till she was forty years old.” 

“Yes,” said Roxy; “and she made the beautiful 
rag carpet in the dining-room. Piney says it’s a 
regular B’ustles carpet.” 

“ Oh, but, Bi ! ” shouted Piney, as he pulled some- 
thing out of a corner, “do you see that } ” 

“Why, it’s a cavalry sabre. It’s a good deal 
crookeder than they make ’em now.” 

“ Crooked as a scythe. That came from a trooper 
in Burgoyne’s army, in the Revolution.” 

“ Did he have any cavalry } ” 

“ I can’t say ’bout that, but then there’s the 
sword. Here’s another.” 

The second prize was a straight, brass-handled 
affair, with a three-cornered blade and no sharp 
edges. 


AMONG THE LANES. 


162 

It’s a sticker,” said Bi. 

“ It’s what the British infantry sergeants used to 
wear. Tip-top for toasting bacon on.” 

“ Hullo, Piney, what a gun that is ! I never saw 
such a long barrel, and the muzzle of it flares out 
like a young bugle Flint-lock too: ain’t it heavy, 
though ! ” 

‘‘That’s a bell-muzzled fowling-piece. It was 
aunt Keziah’s great-uncle had it first. Our folks 
used that sort of thing at Bunker Hill. They’re 
great for ducks and geese. You can cram in any 
amount of big shot.” 

“ I’d say you could,” said Bi ; and their hands 
were red with rust before they finished admiring 
that marvellous old gun. 

The rest were having just as good a time as the 
boys. Roxy was whirling one of the great wooden 
spinning-wheels, to Susie’s great delight ; and Chub 
was pulling all sorts of things out of all the cor- 
ners. 

“Piney,” said Bi, “what’s in all those chests.^” 

“You couldn’t begin to guess. All of great- 
grandmother’s clothes, and some of grandmother’s, 
and lots of other things. Some of ’em are real 
pretty too.” 

“O Piney!” shouted Roxy. “That’s what we 
want. Open ’em, and let me and Susie dress up 
our dolls.” 


WHAT FUN! 


163 

*‘A11 right,” said Piney ; and in a few moments 
more the floor was littered with ancient treasures 
of millinery and dressmaking, and the children were 
going wild over their discoveries. Mary Hunter 
had done very little, until then, except to keep a 
sharp eye towards the head of the stairs and on 
Chub’s movements ; but the contents of those chests 
had an attraction for her. Besides, she had enough 
of her father’s liking for antiquities to add to her 
interest ; and the fun grew rapidly. 

She helped Susie and Roxy dress their dolls ; and 
when their toilets were done, they were a sight to 
make a cat laugh. 

Those chests did not include all the treasures of 
the garret, by any means. There were cases of old 
account-books, and papers of all sorts, belonging to 
long-ago business affairs. 

There were old hats and bonnets. One large 
hair-covered trunk was almost full of old tools ; and 
Piney and Bi ransacked them with a will, wondering 
what some of them had ever been used for. Hour 
after hour went by, until at last Piney suddenly 
exclaimed, — 

“ Now, cousin Mary, let’s all dress up, and go 
down-stairs.” 

“What fun!” said Mary. “We’ll do it. We’ll 
dress the children too, and carry the dolls with us.” 

They went at it enthusiastically, and a wonder- 


164 


AMONG THE LANES. 


ful set of guys they made of themselves. Perhaps 
the funniest figure of all — funnier than even the 
dolls — was Chub, in an old army-uniform coat that 
almost covered him up. As for Mary, she had 
arrayed herself in a green-silk dress, which had 
been her great-grandmother’s, and had been an ele- 
gant garment in its day. She had found and put 
on a huge coal-scuttle bonnet, tied a very liberal 
yellow sash around her waist, covered her plump 
hands with a pair of dingy-black ‘'elbow gloves;” 
and then all she needed to complete her apparel 
was the very pair of horn-rimmed spectacles which 
Piney fished up for her out of the tool-chest. Roxy 
and Susie were also rigged out in a manner which 
left nothing at all to ask for ; and Piney and Bi had 
done their very best for their own outfit. 

When all was ready, the only remaining difficulty 
that beset them was how they should ever get down 
those steep stairs, with all that rigging to manage, 
and not tumble at least half the way. Bi and Piney 
engineered it for them, however, in spite of all the 
queer toggery. It was a special job for them ; for 
Bi had girded himself with the sabre, and Piney 
was armed with the straight sword and the bell- 
mouthed fowling-piece. 

They gathered in the entry for a moment, after 
they all reached the foot of the stairs in safety, and 
finished their masquerading preparations. Mary 


WHEN DID YOU COME ? 


165 


carried Roxy’s great rag-doll in her arms ; and there 
had never before been seen such a procession, in 
that house or any other, as they made when they 
marched on through the kitchen and into the din- 
ing-room. They did not find anybody there, as 
they had expected ; and Mary said, in a voice half 
choked with laughter, — 

They must all be in the front parlor. Let’s walk 
right in.” 

“Forward, march !” said Piney. 

On they went accordingly ; and they found the 
old folk in the parlor, sure enough. Grandfather 
Hunter was there, and uncle Liph and aunt Sarah, 
and Piney’s mother and aunt Keziah ; and there, 
with them, was a tall, pleasant-looking gentleman, 
who sprang to his feet, as the procession entered 
the room, exclaiming, — 

“ Bless me ! ” 

There was no help for it. Everybody had to 
laugh, — even the strange gentleman, although Roxy 
said afterwards that she was sure she saw him try- 
ing hard not to. 

“Or else,” she said, “he was trying to eat up his 
handkerchief.” 

Mary Hunter forgot that she was carrying the 
rag-baby; for she let it drop on the floor, just as 
she was saying, — 

“ Mr. Sadler ! When did you come } ” 


i66 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


He stepped forward very politely indeed, and 
replied, — 

“ I wanted to see your father on some important 
business. I came in by the stage, and had myself 
driven right over. It is a very rainy day. Miss 
Hunter.” 

All that while, his face was growing more and 
more nearly the color of Piney’s own ; and so was 
that of cousin Mary. All the room around and 
behind them was one riot of noise and fun ; and it 
made less difference what they said, for nobody was 
paying them any particular attention. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


IT NEVER RAINS BUT IT POURS. 

Mary Hunter said something or other in repl}' 
to Mr. Sadler, but she did not say it very distinctly. 
She stooped and picked up the rag-baby ; and, when 
she arose, she stepped forward with it in her arms, 
in a very stately way, and sat down in a big rocking- 
chair. 

Mr. Sadler also found a chair, and sat down ; and 
then Bi Hunter thought he never heard his sister 
talk faster. She had opportunity enough, for all 
the rest of the room was in fits of laughter over the 
children. 

“ Uncle Liph,” said Roxy, ‘‘don’t you see ^ Susie 
and I are both our grandmothers.” 

“No, we’re their mothers,” said Susie. 

“And Chub is George Washington,” said Roxy; 
“ and he’s been telling fibs, and cutting down trees 
with his hatchet.” 

“My doll’s been bad,” said Susie, holding her up 
to be looked at. “ She’s put on her Sunday bon- 

167 


i68 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


net ; and it’s a rainy day, and it’ll be spoiled before 
she gets home from meeting.” 

‘‘My doll’s going to soldier,” said Chub, as Bi 
tried to fasten the belt of the sabre around his 
little waist. “ If he’s bad. I’ll sword him.” 

“ What a mess you must have made in that gar- 
ret ! ” remarked aunt Keziah ; but Piney said, — 

“Yes, it’s dreadful. The dust won’t settle again 
in a week. — I say, Bi, how does that hat feel "i It 
isn’t exactly a city hat.” 

“No,” said Bi, “it isn’t. I wonder where it was 
made.” 

“ It’s real beaver. They used to catch plenty of 
’em around here.” 

“ And make hats of their skins 1 ” 

“That’s about all they trapped ’em for. They 
trapped ’em all out, but nobody wears beaver hats 
now.” 

“I don’t see how they could very well,” said 
uncle Liph, “ now the beavers are all killed. There 
can’t be many left anywhere.” 

“ Not enough for the hat business,” said grand- 
father. “But then there are plenty of silkworms.” 

“ Do worms make hats 1 ” asked Roxy. 

“They make silk,” said Bi. “ Men wear silk hats 
nowadays.” 

“ I wish they didn’t,” laughed uncle Liph. 
“They’re almost as bad as helmets.” 


SOAP AND WATER. 


169 


“ What’s a hellamet ? ” asked Roxy. 

“ It’s an iron hat. When you come to see me, 
I’ll show you one.” 

‘‘ An iron hat ! ” she exclaimed. ‘‘ Oh, dear me ! 
How they must hurt ! ” 

^•But then, Roxy,” said Susie, ‘Hhey didn’t ever 
wear out, and they didn’t bend out of shape if any- 
body sat down on them.” 

“ It’s pretty near dinner-time,” said aunt Keziah. ’ 
“ Mary, my grandmother never came to the dinner- 
table with her bonnet on.” 

“Then, I’ll go and put mine away,” said Mary. 

“ Mr. Sadler will excuse my leaving him.” 

“ Certainly,” replied Mr. Sadler ; and then he 
looked like a man who could not think of any thing 
more he wanted to say just then. 

“ Come on, Bi,” said Piney. “ If my face is as 
dusty as yours, we’d both better try some soap and 
water.” 

That was what the children needed particularly ; 
and they were all marched out of the parlor, not 
forgetting their dusty dolls. 

Piney and Bi were back again in the parlor before 
the rest ; and, when Mary Hunter came in, Piney 
leaned over to Bi, and whispered, — 

“ Isn’t she pretty ! I never saw her look so well 
before.” 

The children must also have noticed Mary’s good 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


170 

looks ; for, when Mr. Sadler took Roxy on his knee, 
just before the dinner-bell rang, she said to him, — 

'‘Mr. Sadler, don’t you think Mary’s nicer with- 
out her owl-eyes ” 

“ Her owl-eyes ^ Oh ! the spectacles.” 

“Yes; but Piney says those kind of spectacles 
are owl-eyes.” 

“ I guess Piney’s right,” said Mr. Sadler. 

“ I guess he is,” began Roxy ; but cousin Mary 
remarked suddenly, as she arose to sit down in 
another chair a little farther off, — 

“ So I looked like a owl, did I } ” 

“ In a green silk dress and a big bonnet,” shouted 
Susie. “That’s it. Mary was a grandmother owl.” 

Piney was aware of having an idea that Mr 
Sadler was glad to have the dinner-bell ring just 
then. He and Bi were, at all events. 

That was a merry dinner-party, in spite of the 
rain that was still pouring down over every thing 
out of doors. Uncle Liph seemed to be in uncom- 
monly high spirits ; and grandfather Hunter told 
funny stories of how the ladies and gentlemen were 
dressed on the day of his wedding, long ago. 

“They made a great fuss over such things then,” 
said aunt Keziah. “ Nobody ever thinks of having 
a big wedding nowadays.” 

“ Times change,” said grandfather. 

“Yes, they do,” snapped aunt Keziah; “but 


SERIOUS, BUT NOT BAD. 


7 


there’s no need of every thing else changing. A 
wedding ought not to be just an every-day affair.” 

‘‘No,” said Mr. Sadler vacantly, “not every day. 
I think once in a lifetime would be quite enough 
for me.” 

“ I don’t,” chirped Roxy. “ I think it’s beautiful 
to have company in the house.” 

The people around that table seemed ready to 
laugh at almost any thing, but Piney felt a little 
sober over the prospects of keeping them amused 
for the rest of the day. What should he or could 
he contrive to keep them all busy } 

He need not have troubled himself at all about 
Roxy and Susie and Chub ; for they were almost 
ready to give up their pie at once, in order to get 
back the sooner to their dolls, and all those wonder- 
ful old dresses and things. Cousin Mary herself 
began to help them after dinner ; but aunt Sarah 
made her stop, and go into the parlor to play the 
piano and sing. That, however, was after Mr. Sad- 
ler had had a talk about business with uncle Liph. 

“ Is it any thing serious } ” aunt Sarah asked, 
when uncle Liph met her in the hall ; and he said 
to her, with a queer, comical sort of smile, — 

“It’s a little serious, my dear; but it isn’t very 
bad. I think we must keep Sadler here for a few 
days. I’ll have a talk with you about the business, 
by and by.” 


AMONG THE LANES. 


172 

Aunt Sarah smiled too, as if she were glad there 
was nothing serious, and would be pleased to have 
Mr. Sadler visit at the farmhouse. 

“Bi,” said Piney, as soon as he saw how nicely 
every thing was going on without his help, ‘‘let’s 
you and I play chess. I’ve a set of men and a 
board.” 

“Pm ready. Chess is just the thing fbr a rainy 
day.” 

The board and men were got out, and the two 
boys worked at it in a corner of the back parlor 
until about the middle of the afternoon. Then 
there came a sound of much giggling, and of rus- 
tling silk on the hall-stairs ; and Piney said, — 

“ Checkmate in two moves, Bi. Let’s go and see 
what’s up.” 

“All right,” said Bi. “You can beat me, any- 
how. I must get me a book, and study up my 
openings.” 

It was time to go, for something was about to 
happen ; and, as usual, Roxy was at the bottom of 
it. Piney felt sure of that, but he could not have 
guessed just what it would be. 

A little while before that, Roxy had suddenly 
dropped her doll, exclaiming, — 

“ O Susie ! I haven’t practised my piece since 
you came.” 

“ Your piece } What’s that ? ” 


QUITE A SCATTERING. 


173 


‘‘Why, it’s for the exhibition next Saturday. 
Didn’t you know I went to school to the ’cad- 
emy } ” 

“Why, you don’t go with Piney.” 

“Sometimes I do, but not in the last week. I 
don’t go reg’lar, but I’m to speak my piece reg’lar.” 

That was about the truth of the matter; for Roxy 
had arranged it all, without any older help, with the 
young-lady “principal” of the female department of 
the academy. 

“Well,” said Susie, “why don’t you speak it now } 
and Chub and I’ll hear you.” 

“Yes; but I don’t mean to speak it up here. 
I’m going to dress- up, and go and speak it in the 
parlor to all the folks.” 

“ Why, Roxy, how will you dress up ? Is it that 
kind of a piece ? ” 

“ It’s ‘ The breaking waves,’ ” said Roxy gravely ; 
“and it’s the best piece in the world. Aunt Keziah 
wanted me to learn another, but I wanted ‘ The 
breaKing waves.’ ” 

“ I never heard it,” said Susie. 

“ Didn’t you ? Don’t they know it in the city } 
Well, cousin Mary left that green-silk dress on the 
floor in her room, and she threw the big bonnet 
away in the corner.” 

“ Are the spectacles there ? ” 

“No : they’re scattered out into the hall, I guess. 


174 


AMONG THE LANES. 


But I don’t want mem : I only want the dress and 
the bonnet.” 

Susie was quite ready to help in an affair of that 
kind, and Chub danced all around them while Roxy 
put on the things. She was all but hidden under so 
much dress and bonnet ; and Susie said, — 

‘'Long trails are just the fashion ; but you’ll have 
the longest, longest trail in all the world.” 

It was quite likely that she had ; that is, for any 
lady of her size. 

The older people had once more seated themselves 
comfortably in the front parlor, just as Susie and 
Roxy came down the stairs ; and Mr. Sadler was 
spreading out some new music upon the piano. It 
was some he had brought with him from the city ; 
and he was just remarking, — 

“That is very old, but it is sweet. It is ‘The 
Rainy Day,’ ” when he was interrupted by the 
voice of Roxy, in the middle of the room behind 
him, — 

“ ‘ The breaking waves dashed high 
On a sterm and rock-bound coast, 

And the woods against a storny sky 
Their giant branches tost. 

And the heavy nigh tongue dark 
The hills and water sore ” — 

But, at that point, Roxy was interrupted by peals 
of laughter all around the room. Cousin Mary, 


ORATORY UNDER DIFFICULTIES. 1 75 

too, had covered her own face with both hands, 
exclaiming, — 

Oh, dear me ! How absurd I must have 
looked ! ” 

Roxy looked behind her. 

“Chub, you naughty boy, get off my trail. You 
make them all laugh. It’ll just spoil my piece.” 

There was danger of it ; for there he was, “ teter- 
ing ” on the skirt of the green-silk dress, upon his 
tiptoes, and poking out his little hands in imitation 
of Roxy’s energetic gestures as she “spoke.” 

He ceased for a moment, and she turned around 
and tried to go on ; but Chub only stepped off the 
trail to come in front of her, and put his fat rosy 
face away inside of the scoop-shovel bonnet. All 
that the rest could hear then was something about 
“the wild New-England shore.” 

Roxy herself began to laugh, for it was all too 
comical for any thing else ; but she was a little 
vexea about her piece, and she said, — 

“ Now, mamma, I could say it if Chub would 
keep away.” 

“ Come here. Chub,” said his mother. 

“ Oh, yes ! ” exclaimed cousin Mary. “ Do let us 
have the whole of it. Go right on, Roxy dear.” 

“ I’ll go on,” said Roxy ; “ but I guess you 
couldn’t speak very well, with somebody all the 
time poking his face under your bonnet.” 


1/6 


AMOJVG THE LAKES. 


If anybody could have looked around that parlor, 
just then, it would have puzzled him to say who 
was laughing the hardest. Cousin Mary laughed 
so hard that it made her red in the face ; and the 
color came back, again and again, after she stopped 
laughing. 

The applause, such as it was, encouraged Roxy 
to go on ; and she recited the whole of “ The Land- 
ing of the Pilgrim Fathers,” with only here and 
there an omission or so, and a few changes of the 
words. 

It is very possible, that, if one of the Pilgrim 
Fathers himself had undertaken to repeat those 
verses, or any others, with that dress and bonnet on, 
and before such an audience, he would have skipped 
or changed something before he got through. 

Piney was asked for a recital of his own “piece;” 
but he replied, — 

“ Well, no, I guess not. It’s bad enough to have 
to speak it on the platform at the exhibition. Hawk- 
nose John would be the best man to do it, though. 
I wish he’d agree to take my place.” 

“ Why not the Woodchuck } Wouldn’t he do as 
well } ” asked Mary. 

“Well, no, I don’t think he would. I guess no- 
body ever followed him very far for any thing; 
unless it was his wife, when he didn’t bring home 
her berry-money.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


EXAMINATION-DAY. 

Friday of that week had been looked forward to 
by all the boys of the academy, a good deal as all 
such days must be, with mixed feelings. They had 
their hopes about it, and they had their fears. 

There was more than a little fear afloat concern- 
ing the way things would go at the examination, 
and then there were hopes of getting through it 
fairly well. There were some who dared to say 
that perhaps it might not turn out such an awful 
kind of a day, after all. 

It was sure to be a long one, for all the days of 
June are long. If the rest of the boys were like 
Piney Hunter, there was a good deal of early rising 
that morning. He began at first, as soon as he was 
up and dressed, to turn over the leaves of his school- 
books ; but he shut them up again, remarking to 
himself, — 

' “ It’s of no sort of use. I couldn’t read ten lines 

if I should try. Come on, Bi : let’s go and have a 

177 


178 


AMONG THE LANES. 


good swim and a pull around the lake, before break- 
fast.” 

It was very early for Bi, but he was quickly ready ; 
and they both were glad to find the morning so 
fresh and smiling, considering all that was coming. 
All the grass and trees looked greener than ever, 
after the great rain. The sky had a remarkably 
clear, clean tint of blue ; and the lake was “elegant,” 
as they declared. 

They did not try to catch any fish ; and Piney 
said, — 

“The teachers’ll find plenty of bullheads and 
suckers in their classes to-day. Kyle Wilbur and 
some of the other boys mean to try and play 
eels.” 

“Perhaps the teachers may catch them at it,” 
said Bi, “and put some sand in their hands.” 

“ Well, yes ; but even then they couldn’t get a 
very tight hold on boys like Kyle. They ought to 
have put sand on him all through the term. Just so 
with half the rest : they’re an awful slippery lot.” 

“ Shall I go over to the academy when you do ? ” 
asked Bi. 

“You might if you wanted to, but you’d find it 
the dullest kind of work. Grandpa and Uncle Liph 
said they were going. Mother always goes, to see 
how I come out ; and I guess aunt Keziah and your 
mother’ll be pretty sure to go with her.” 


A SENSIBLE YOUNG MAN 


1/9 


“ They won’t be playing ball to-day, I s’pose. 
Most of ’em won’t feel like it.” 

“ Well, no, they won’t ; but it’s about the only 
thing some of ’em could stand being examined 
on.” 

‘^Tell you what, then. I’ll wait, and walk over 
with Mary when she goes. Never you mind about 
me.” 

There was a mistaken idea in Bi Hunter’s mind 
as to what his sister was likely to do with herself 
that day, and as to her requiring his company to 
the village or anywhere else. 

For some reason or other, she seemed inclined to 
spend a good deal of time in her room. Mr. Sadler 
accompanied uncle Liph and the rest, when they 
went over ; and Bi was carried along with the crowd. 
He thought he had never known a man to say less 
than Sadler did, all the way ; and yet there did not 
seem to be any thing the matter with him, — he 
was cheerful. 

Piiiey had heard aunt Keziah remark about him, 
before they set out from the house, — 

Like him } Of course I do. He’s attentive to 
old folks. He’s just the kind of man I like. Girls 
like Mary, now, don’t seem to take much to that 
kind of man. So much the worse for them : they’d 
ought to have more sense.” 

Aunt Sarah replied to her, — 


i8o 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


‘‘Yes, Keziah; but Mr. Sadler is always kind 
and attentive to everybody. He is one of the best 
young men I know.” 

The great business of the day began in due sea- 
son ; and then, while Piney and his schoolmates were 
doing their best to find answers to the hard ques- 
tions the teachers plied them with, Bi Hunter wan- 
dered all around the little town, from one place to 
another, declaring that he had never before known 
exactly what sort of thing a country village was. 
He had no trouble at all, anywhere ; but a good deal 
of tribulation was caused at the academy by what 
Kyle Wilbur denounced vigorously to himself as 
“just the meanest trick that ever was played on 
a feller.” 

Instead of, calling up the boys in their classes, 
according to the alphabetical order of their names 
upon the “roll-book,” as had always been the cus- 
tom, beginning with A, and using up the time 
before they get down to W — ilbur, all the names 
were written upon slips of paper, and folded up, one 
by one, and tumbled together loosely in a box. 
Then the teacher of that class picked out one paper 
after another, hit or miss, just as they came to his 
hand, and read the name on it out aloud ; and that 
boy had to begin right away. It was worth while 
to see some of the faces the boys put on when they 
began to understand that “ trick.” 


NOT A DOUBT OF IT l8l 

‘*It’s just rough,” muttered Bill Young ; but before 
he had time to tell himself why, his name was called 
out, and he had to get up and go forward. 

That was in geography, and Bill considered him- 
self better posted in that branch of learning than 
in almost any thing else. Indeed, if the examining 
teacher had but stuck to the text-book, and asKed 
Bill the questions in the printed form, he might 
possibly have come out of his trial with credit to 
himself and the academy. Even as it was, he did 
fairly well till he was asked, — 

What is the boundary-line between North and 
South America } ” 

The Ohio River,” said Bill, without a moment’s 
hesitation ; and he was not a little flustered by the 
laugh which followed. He hit the mark again, how- 
ever, once or twice ; and even when asked, “ How 
would you describe the position of the State of 
Massachusetts on the map.^” he did well, for he 
told them it was, — 

'‘West of Cape Cod, east of Rhode Island, south 
of Maine, and north of Long Island Sound.” 

That was all very true ; but he was suddenly 
bounced with, — 

“ Where is the equator .? ” 

Bill knew ; and he was as prompt as lightning, in 
spite of the nervous condition he was getting into. 

“ Right in the middle of the map.” 


AMONG THE LANES. 


182 

“That will do, Master Young,” said the examiner, 
as he picked up another slip of paper. “You may 
take your seat. — Kyle Wilbur.” 

Poor Kyle ! 

He had heard all the laughter at his friend’s 
expense, and it had not at all improved his own 
condition for answering questions. He arose to his 
feet with a dim wish in his mind that he could see 
Piney Hunter’s brindled heifer making a “charge” 
upon the whole academy “faculty;” but when all 
that was asked of him was the simple question, 
“ What is Great Britain .? ” he told them all, very 
correctly, that it was “a large island near the coast 
of France.” 

“Not a doubt of it,” remarked the examiner; 
“but how is it separated from the United States 

“ By the Revolutionary War and the Declaration 
of Independence.” 

“ Well, yes ; but the Atlantic Ocean has some- 
thing to do with it, has it not ? ” 

Kyle stood his ground like a hero. 

“No, sir; for they stick to Canada, all the same.” 

He felt that he was getting adrift somehow ; and 
he thought again of the brindled heifer, while the 
examiner finished a bad fit of coughing, and asked 
him, — 

“Who were the human inhabitants of this con- 
tinent at the time of its discovery } ” 


TOO MUCH HELP. 


183 


Of course he knew. He was sure he ought to be 
able to answer that question, but the right words 
were slow in coming to him. He looked at the 
ceiling, and hesitated just one instant; and then 
he heard the voice of Roxy Hunter, in a loud 
whi'^per, prompting him from the front seat where 
she sat between Mr. Sadler and aunt Keziah, — 
“Pilgrim Fathers, Kyle; Pilgrim Fathers ;” and he 
almost mechanically repeated it after her, ver)' 
loudly, — 

“ Pilgrim Fathers ! ” 

Then the room had more laugh in it than even 
when Bill Young answered the equator question; 
and the examiner responded, — 

“ That will do. Master Wilbur. The young ladies 
in the audience will please show no favoritism.” 

“ I can recite the whole of it,” whispered Roxy 
to Mr. Sadler; “but I don’t believe Kyle can.” 

The classes were all large, — much too large to 
admit of every boy or girl in them being called up 
to make mistakes in public ; and Piney Hunter’s 
name seemed to be in no hurry to be drawn from 
among the little heaps of papers in the boxes. He 
did but march with the rest, from one room to 
another, as the examiners went on with the several 
classes of which he was a member. He drew long 
breaths of relief over each successive escape, but 
he felt sure that his turn was coming. All the 


184 


AMONG THE LANES. 


forenoon, therefore, he was little better than a mere 
looker-on, except for one short trial in Latin. The 
regular Latin “professor” happened to be sick that 
day, and the young man who took his place was 
every bit as bashful as Piney himself. As for the 
audience, the only person present who seemed to 
see any fun in Piney’s translation of the selection 
given him was uncle Liph ; and he only leaned over, 
and whispered to aunt Sarah, — 

“ Caesar might have done worse in putting that 
into English.” 

Piney did not hear it, nor did the young man 
who had him in hand. At the noon recess, how- 
ever, when he and the other boys met out on the 
green, he had to hear any number of complaints of 
what they all called his “ good luck.” 

“ It’s just like you, Piney Hunter,” said Kyle ; 
“but your time’ll come. Where’d you ha’ been, 
anyhow, if that there feller’d known any thing ’bout 
Latin .? ” 

“ Or if they’d hauled you up on g’ography, like 
they did me } ” added Bill Young. 

“ Or history,” said one of the boys whose break- 
down in that department of learning had been espe- 
cially heavy. “What do you know about his- 
tory .? ” 

“ Not much,” replied Piney. “ Seems to me I 
know less to-day than I ever did before in all my 


PINEV^S LUCK, 


18=; 


life. I’m forgetting something or other every 
minute.” 

'‘You won’t know much by three o’clock then, if 
you keep on,” gravely remarked Kyle Wilbur. 

When the bell called them in again, the class in 
algebra was the first one taken hold of. It was a 
large class, and the largest room in the academy 
was too small to hold both the scholars and their 
crowd of anxious friends. 

Piney thought he had never seen any thing else 
wear quite so threatening an expression as did the 
great blackboard which covered one side of that 
room. It almost seemed to say to him, — 

“ Here I am. I’ve got you now ! ” 

Just then the academy principal held up a slip of 
white paper, and read from it, in a loud and sonorous 
voice, — 

“ Master Richard Hunter.” 

“That’s Piney,” remarked Roxy to Mr. Sadler, in 
a voice so low and earnest that nobody in the room 
failed to hear it. All the peonies in aunt Keziah’s 
tub were hardly so red as was their namesake’s face 
when he walked forward to the blackboard, and 
picked up his piece of chalk. Another slip of 
paper was given to him ; and on that was written 
the problem he was expected to work out — before 
all the crowd — upon that blackboard. 

For almost a full minute, it seemed to him as if 


86 


AMONG THE LANES. 


he never had seen, at any time or anywhere, such 
letters and figures as there were on that wretched 
paper. Some of them stood for “plus,” and some 
for “minus;” and there was also a hint of that 
dreadfully ridiculous and impossible invention, — a 
square root. 

“There never was one,” said Piney to himself, as 
he now stared at the blackboard. “All the roots I 
ever saw were round.” 

Some way or other, however, the marks and signs 
and letters were beginning to look more and more 
like old neighbors and familiar acquaintances. It 
occurred to him then that he had seen some of them 
somewhere. He knew very well that his mother 
and aunt Keziah, and all the rest from his house, 
were watching him very anxiously. He could feel 
their eyes on the back of his head, and he would 
not have turned around for any thing. 

“I declare!” he suddenly said to himself. “If 
it isn’t the very problem I had such a fight with the 
other night! Why, it’s just the freshest thing to 
me in the whole book. I’ve got it on my finger- 
ends.” 

His heart gave a great jump, and the blackboard 
itself seemed to put on a more cheerful expression 
of countenance as Piney’s bit of chalk began to fly 
over its surface. He worked with almost nervous 
rapidity, and his mother turned and looked very 


NEGLECTED SCIENCES. 


187 


proudly at aunt Keziah. The latter was at that 
moment completing a very long-drawn breath, as if 
she had been afraid of something, and was relieved 
about it. 

Roxy whispered to Mr. Sadler, — 

“That’s just like Piney. He’ll go and use up 
all the chalk ; ” but she was astonished to discover 
that he was looking out of the window at that 
moment, just as if there had been no examination 
going on. 

Perhaps it was a little tiresome to him, and he 
deserved great credit for patiently sitting it out. 
Uncle Liph himself was not half so patient about 
it, and grandfather Hunter had not returned at all 
after the noon recess. Bi came in, however,, just in 
time to hear Piney recite in grammar. As for 
Greek, and all that sort of thing, it had^ not yet 
made its way into the academy. 

There were to be some prizes, as everybody knew, 
but they were not to be given out until the close of 
the exhibition next day ; and, as soon as Piney’s 
last class was dismissed, he and his friends set out 
for home. The older people rode in the carryall ; 
but, for reasons of his own, Mr. Sadler decided to 
walk with Piney and Bi. 

“ Do they teach book-keeping at the academy } ” 
he asked, as they were leisurely strolling along. 

“No,” said Piney;. “but the scholars keep a good 
manv of the books they draw from the lihrarv,” 


i88 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


‘‘I see. Do they teach French or German, or 
any other of the modern languages ” 

‘‘Not one. Fve picked up a little German from 
a man we had to work for us, but there’s no one to 
teach it at the academy.” 

Mr. Sadler asked a good many other questions, 
with very much the same kind of answers ; and 
then he drew a long whistle. 

Well, Richard,” he said, — “or Piney, if you like 
that better, — a boy like you can learn all they teach 
in that academy, and then be just ready to learn 
something that’ll be of use to him. What are you 
going to do with yourself when you get through ” 

“Go to college.” 

“ And what then 1 ” 

“Mr. Sadler,” said Piney suddenly, “do you know 
what you’ll be doing five or six years from now ? ” 

“ Well, perhaps not, exactly.” 

“No more do I. Next week’ll be vacation, and 
there’ll be two months of it I wish I knew what I 
was going to do with it all. Bi’s going to stay and 
help me get rid of part of it.” 

“ I’ll tell you what, then,” said Mr. Sadler. 
“You come and spend a part of it in the city, 
and see if you can’t learn a thing or two there.” 

“Just what I was thinking I’d like to do. Hullo ! 
There are Chub and cousin Mary on the piazza.” 

So they were, and it almost looked as if Mary 


SOUND TIMBER. 


189 


were trying to go back into the house after some- 
thing; but Chub tugged so hard at her dress that 
she had to give it up, and stay out there to welcome 
them home. 

‘‘ ril have another talk with you, Piney, before I 
go,” said Mr. Sadler ; and he added to himself, 
“ Shouldn’t wonder if something might be made out 
of him. Seems to be good stuff.” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


THE EXHIBITION. 

That was a lovely June evening, and Piney took 
out a whole scow-load of his visitors for a moon- 
light ride on the lake. Roxy and Susie were 
allowed to go ; but Chub was put to bed, in spite 
of a vigorous protest on his own behalf. 

Mr. Sadler,” said Mary, when they reached the 
landing, “ will you take Roxy with you, in the stern 
of the boat ? I will keep Susie with me, on the 
front seat.” 

“That’ll trim the old scow nicely,” said Piney. 
“ Bi, you sit in the middle there, and I’ll take the 
oars. She’ll carry us first-rate.” 

So she did ; but Roxy and Susie had almost all 
the talking to themselves, although both Mary and 
Mr. Sadler joined in the singing. The lake was 
very beautiful in the clear still moonlight ; and they 
all said so, one after another. Then Roxy called to 
her grown-up cousin, — 

“ O cousin Mary ! why don’t you take Mr. Sadler 


COMING, 


I9I 

out some evening ? Piney says it’s a great deal 
nicer when there isn’t such a crowd.” 

“Piney knows a good deal,” said Mr. Sadler. 
“ I found that out to-day.” 

“ Did you ^ ” said Roxy. “ Well, ’most everybody 
does. He knows all about moonshine. Do you ? ” 

Mr. Sadler laughed heartily, and Mary not quite 
so heartily ; but Roxy got no other answer. 

Piney had all the hard work, but he seemed to 
enjoy himself as much as anybody. They remained 
out on the water for about an hour and a half ; and, 
when they got back to the landing, there were aunt 
Sarah and aunt Keziah waiting for Susie and Roxy. 
On the whole, it had been a somewhat fatiguing day ; 
and if anybody in the house was awake an hour later 
than that, it is likely nobody else was aware of it. 

The next day was Saturday ; and the exhibition 
was to be held in the afternoon, because, if it were 
held in the evening, a good many of the country 
people, living t at long distances from the village, 
would not be able to attend it. 

During the morning Mr. Sadler strolled all over 
the farm with uncle Liph, and they probably had 
any amount of business affairs to talk of. 

The rest of the household got along as best they 
could ; but just before noon Piney saw Kyle Wilbur 
coming up the road from the village, and went out 
to meet him. 


192 


AMONG THE LANES. 


“What on earth took you over before dinner?” 
he asked. 

“ Oh ! ” said Kyle, on whose face there was a sort 
of gloomy expression, “just you wait and see. I’ve 
got a new idee.” 

“ A new idea ? What’s that ? ” 

“ ril show you before the day’s over. Guess all 
the folks won’t laugh at me the way they did yes- 
terday.” 

“ Why, no : there won’t any of ’em laugh at your 
piece. It’s kind o’ sober.” 

“Well, it is, now. I guess they’ll get all the 
burning deck they want, too. You see’f they 
don’t.” 

Piney was unable to get out of him any particu- 
lars at all concerning his new idea, and Kyle went 
on to his own house. 

“He’s a queer stick,” said Piney to Bi, “and his 
feathers were awfully ruffled at being laughed at. 
He’s just the kind of boy to go and do something 
nobody ever heard of before. Guess I won’t, 
though. I’ll leave my bow at home.” 

“Your bow ? ” 

Piney explained to him all about the bow and 
arrows, and how he had intended making use of 
them when he delivered his “ piece.” 

“No,” said Bi. “You’re right about that. I 
wouldn’t wear ’em if I were you, — not unless you 


A DEAD SECRET. 


193 


could get up a complete Indian rig. We could get 
one, though, if we were at our house.” 

“ Are there any there ? ” 

‘‘ Father’s got some, and so has grandfather, 
among their curiosities, — splendid ones. Rig you 
up for an Indian chief, bow and arrows, and toma- 
hawk and club and spear, feathers and all.” 

“Wouldn’t that be gay now! But it wouldn’t do 
to set up for much of an Indian, in just my Sunday 
clothes, and a bow and arrows.” 

“ And no paint. I guess not. It’s a pity, though, 
that Roxy can’t wear the things she practised in. 
J List think of it ! How she would bring down the 
house ! ” 

“ Wouldn’t she, though 1 And with Chub stand- 
ing on the trail behind her.” 

They both agreed that they were not likely to 
get any thing quite so funny at the academy exhi- 
bition that day, but they did not krow what was 
working in the troubled mind of Kyle Wilbur. No- 
body else did, for he had concealed his purposes 
from even Bill Young. 

More than half of the upper story of the academy 
building was thrown into one large room, with a 
raised platform at the western side of it, and with 
seats all around, like those in a meeting-house. 
There was a small gallery too ; but that was always 
occupied by a brass-band upon such great occasions 


194 


AMONG THE LANES. 


as exhibition-day, and during Fourth-of-July orations. 
The young gentlemen and young ladies who were 
to recite always came upon the stage through a door 
at the side from a stairway which led to a room 
below. On the stage, at the side opposite that door, 
stood a piano ; and there were plenty of arm-chairs 
for the principal and the other teachers, and for 
some of the trustees ; and in the middle of the 
platform was a wide open space for the speakers to 
have room to move about in. 

The hall was filled at an early hour, and it was 
quite crowded by the time the recitations began. 
All sorts of people were there, and Bi Hunter said 
to Mr. Sadler that he “ wouldn’t have missed seeing 
that crowd for a good deal.” 

Piney was to. be one of the first solitary speak- 
ers,” just after a long dialogue between some young 
ladies ; and aunt Keziah declared that it seemed to 
her as if that dialogue would never come to an end. 
It did, however ; and all the young ladies marched 
off, and Piney came marching in. 

“Mercy sakes alive!” exclaimed aunt Keziah, in 
a whisper to Mary. 

“ Why, what is it ? ” 

“ Don’t you see ? Piney’s pale.” 

“ Why, so he is ! Poor fellow 1 ” 

It was only for a very short moment that his color 
failed him ; and the whole of it came again as he 


ROXY^S PIECE. 


195 


went ahead, and found himself remembering his 
poetry perfectly. He recited fairly well too ; and 
Bill Young whispered to Kyle Wilbur, — 

“ You can’t beat that.” 

Won’t I, though } ” said Kyle. “ Well, now, 
you just wait and see.” 

There was a vague rumor going the rounds among 
the boys, that Kyle Wilbur meant to try on some- 
thing uncommon ; but his turn was not to come for 
a good while yet. There was piano-music, and 
music by the band, and singing and dialogues, and 
other boys ; and then the time arrived for Roxy to 
say The breaking waves.” 

Cousin Mary had gone all the way around with 
her, as far as the door that opened upon the stage ; 
although Roxy said she knew the way well enough, 
and was not one bit afraid to go alone. Then Mary 
stood at the door, with it just a little open, to see 
how Roxy got along. 

She begarf nicely, after she had made her bow to 
the teachers, and another to the audience. There 
was only a slight tremor in her clear childish voice ; 
and everybody was delighted, especially her mother 
and her aunts and her uncle and her grandfather. 
Stanza followed stanza, just as if she had been at 
home, until she was more than half-way through. 
Then the first line of the next stanza seemed to get 
away from her somehow, and she hesitated. 


196 


AMONG THE LANES. 


What sought they thus afar/' whispered cousin 
Mary through the crack of the side-door. 

That’s it. I remember now,” exclaimed Roxy 
triumphantly ; and she went right on to the end of 
it, amid a perfect storm of applause. 

Now, at last, came Kyle Wilbur’s opportunity to 
distinguish himself; and all the boys nudged each 
other with their elbows, and stopped eating pea- 
nuts. 

“Something’s coming now,” said Piney to Bi,.as 
he crowded down into the seat beside him. 

So there was. Kyle Wilbur was coming, and he 
was bringing something with him. It had cost him 
half the money he had saved up for his Fourth-of- 
July fireworks ; and he stopped behind the stage- 
door, after his name was called, long enough to 
scratch a match on the stairs, and get his new idea 
well a-going. Then he marched steadily forward; 
and in each hand he carried one of the things the 
fireworks-men call “flower-pots,” of the largest size 
he had been able to find. Each of those flower- 
pots was beginning to fizz a little on top ; but Kyle 
gravely set them down upon the floor, right and left 
of him, at about arm’s-length, and plunged imme- 
diately into the recital of “The boy stood on the 
burning deck.” 

Before he was well into the third stanza, his fire- 
works began to throw out their showers of fire and 


THE BURNING DECK. 


197 


stars, with some smoke that smelled very badly ; 
and the entire audience was shouting and stamping 
enthusiastically. The boys fairly yelled with de- 
light ; but Kyle went desperately on, in spite of 
the astonished looks of the principal and teachers 
behind him, and on the other side of the stage. 
Just before he reached the end, one of his flower- 
pots came to the loud “bang” they all make at the 
last; and the second exploded just as he was say- 
ing,— 

“ There came a burst of thunder sound : 

The boy — oh! where was he?” 

Nothing could have worked itself better than 
that, and the academy principal hardly knew what 
to do about it until after Kyle made his bow. 
Then, just when he should have walked off, he 
exclaimed, — 

“ There, Piney Hunter ! isn’t that better than 
birch-bark ?•” 

Of course there was more stamping and cheering ; 
and, by the time it had subsided, Kyle Wilbur was 
outside of the academy building. He was quite 
likely to remain outside for a while, if any opinion 
about that could be formed from the looks of his 
teachers ; but Mr. Sadler whispered to Piney, — 

“He’s a friend of yours.” 

“Next farm to ours,” said Piney. 


198 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


“ Get him to come over, then. I want to see more 
of that boy. He’s an original.” 

Piney knew that already, and so did a great many 
others; for aunt Keziah was just then remarking to 
aunt Sarah, — 

“ Oh ! it’s just like Kyle Wilbur.” 

The rest of the afternoon’s performances seemed 
a little tame after the ‘‘burning deck,” but it all 
came to an end. When it was over, and they were 
praising Roxy for her recitation, she gravely re- 
sponded, — 

“Oh, my! If I could only have had the green- 
silk dress on, and the bonnet ! ” 

Nothing short of more fireworks, probably, would 
have created quite such a sensation, if she could 
have had her wish. 


CHAPTER XX. 

PREPARING FOR A VOYAGE. 

There was not a more thoroughly popular boy, 
among the boys, that Saturday till bedtime, in or 
about Parable Centre, than Kyle Wilbur. 

For some reason or other, however, he did not 
see fit to stay in the village, and enjoy the distinc- 
tion he had won. He preferred to go home, and 
then over to Piney Hunter’s house, to see him and 
Bi. 

“Kyle,” said Piney, as he stood and leaned 
against the fence near the gate, “ I’ve got an idea 
in my head.” 

“Is it a new idea, or is it just one of your old 
ones ? ” 

“It’s brand-new, and it’s as good as your fire- 
works.” 

“ Well, what’s it about ? ” 

“You wouldn’t guess it in a week. You know 
our old scow.” 

“Nothing new ’bout her.” 


199 


200 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


*‘Well, we’re going up through the lakes next 
Monday if the weather’s good ; and it’d be an awful 
long row.” 

‘‘Kind o’ long, that’s a fact,” said Kyle; “but 
we could do it.” 

“Well, yes, I guess we could; but if we had a 
mast and sail, now ” — 

“Hurrah!” shouted Bi. “That’d be just the 
thing. She’d bear it. I’ve sailed in a yacht : I’ve 
seen all sorts of boats.” 

“That’s a good deal more’n I ever did,” said 
Piney. “ Do you s’pose you can show us how } ” 

“Of course I can. We’ll just rig a sail on that 
scow. You’ll want a keel on her first.” 

“ I know. That’s a strip of board stuck all along 
the middle.” 

“We can fix it. When do you mean to go to 
work } ” 

“ There’s plenty of wood and tools around. 
Kyle’s a born carpenter too.” 

“So are you, Piney,” said Kyle; “but how about 
the mast and sail 1 ” 

“That’s easy enough. I’ve got a piece of a 
straight spruce sapling, that’ll make a good mast. 
It’s more’n ten feet high. We can bore an auger- 
hole in the middle seat.” 

“No, you don’t,” said Bi. “The hole’s to be in 
the seat next the front end, if there’s any front end 


THE SHIP-YARD. 


201 


to a SCOW like that. I’ll show you how to step it ; 
that is, how to fit it in.” 

That isn’t all,” began Piney. 

No : there’ll have to be a boom and a yard, to 
fit the sail on.” 

“Yes, Piney,” said Kyle. “What’ll you do about 
your sail ? ” 

“Tve got an old sheet that’ll do. We can cut 
it out, and have it heihmed. There’s any quantity 
of old ropes around the house.” 

“ We can put in some stones for ballast,” said Bi. 
“Hurrah! We’ll make her go. I say, boys, let’s 
go about it now.” 

The exhibition and pretty nearly every thing else 
were forgotten in half a minute, and the three boys 
were down by the lake-shore. The boat was hauled 
out upon the grass, and turned bottom upwards, the 
first thing. Then perhaps, if aunt Keziah had been 
there with {hem, she might have remarked, “Just 
like Piney ; ” for the other boys found that he had 
been thinking over that undertaking for a good 
while. 

He had almost every thing all ready for it. 
Their worst job was with the keel ; for he had made 
it too wide, as Bi explained to him, and it had to 
be cut narrower. The rest of the work seemed 
like nothing at all. The auger-hole was bored in 
the right place ; and right under it a thick piece of 


202 


AMOA^G THE LAKES. 


wood, with another hole in it, was nailed upon the 
bottom, for the mast to stand in. 

‘‘Won’t we need a bowsprit ? ” asked Kyle. “All 
the other ships have ’em.” 

“No,” replied Bi. “We’re going to make a cat- 
boat out of this. It’ll only carry one sail.” 

It was a good thing to have one old sailor among 
them. 

“ Bi,” said Piney, “ the rudder’s been puzzling me. 
How on earth can we manage about that 

“We’ll put in a couple of thole-pins, right in the 
middle of the 'stern. Then we can steer her with 
a paddle : it’s just as good.” 

“ I see. That’ll do. Now let’s shove her into 
the water.” 

Nobody would have guessed that the old scow 
had become a ship, and had a keel, only to look at 
her. She sat upon the water just as squarely and 
quietly as usual. When they set up the mast, how- 
ever, she began to look more as if something had 
happened to her; and just then the bell rang for 
supper. 

“I’ll have to go for my cows after that,” said 
Kyle ; “ but I’ll be over here bright and early 

Monday morning. Wish to-morrow wasn’t Sunday.” 

“Can’t help it,” said Piney. “We’ll have the 
other things all ready. We can fix up the sail this 
evening. Mother’ll hem it for me.” 


SAIL-MAKING. 


203 


There was a good deal to talk about at the sup- 
per-table ; but Piney’s mother had cousin Mary and 
even aunt Keziah to help her, afterwards, upon that 
sail. It was cut and fitted elegantly, and Bi re- 
marked of it, — 

“ There ! That’ll take the wind.” 

“I’m half afraid they’ll get upset,” said Piney’s 
mother. 

“ Of course they will,” said aunt Keziah quietly. 
“ I’ll never feel real safe about them till after they’ve 
been tipped over two or three times.” 

“ Why, they might get drowned ! ” exclaimed 
cousin Mary. 

“ No, they won’t,” said aunt Keziah decidedly. 
“I ain’t afraid of that. Besides, they won’t even 
catch cold at this time o’ year.” 

Mr. Sadler seemed to take a great deal of interest 
in the idea of transforming the scow into a sail- 
boat. He had even insisted on holding one side 
of the sail for Mary while she was cutting it into 
shape. 

Saturday evening was all used up before anybody 
knew how fast it was going ; and the next day was 
Sunday, and the whole scow business had to be put 
away. The family went to meeting just as usual. 
The only mistake made there was by Mr. Sadler, 
and Roxy told him of it. He walked into the pew 
with Mary Hunter, and sat down by her, right 


204 


AMONG THE LAKES, 


between her and her mother ; and Roxy whispered 
to him, so that she was heard very distinctly, — 

“That isn’t your place, Mr. Sadler.” 

Mary looked straight at the minister ; and Mr. 
Sadler sat quite still, and said nothing. 

“Aunt Keziah meant he should sit in this pew 
v/ich you and me,” said Roxy to Susie. “But it’ll 
do just as well : she’s got a hymn-book.” 

All the rest of the day went even more quietly 
than usual. It was a dreadfully still day ; and even 
aunt Keziah must have felt it, for, just after supper, 
she said to Mary Hunter, — 

“ Mary, if I was you. I’d take Mr. Sadler out for 
a walk. It’s real nice all along the lake, — only the 
path’s kind o’ narrow in some places.” 

“ It isn’t wide enough for two, eh } ” said Mr. 
Sadler. “ I suppose it was made for one at a 
time.” 

“Yes,” said Roxy; “and I hate a mean little 
narrow path. I’d rather go along with somebody.” 

“I agree with Roxy entirely,” remarked uncle 
Liph ; but Mary Hunter had gone for her hat the 
moment aunt Keziah spoke about the walk. 

“ She’s real obliging, isn’t she, Susie ? ” said 
Roxy. 

As soon as Mary and Mr. Sadler were out of the 
house, aunt Keziah took off her spectacles, and 
remarked, — 


ANXIOUS FRIENDS, 


205 


“Now, I think he’s a real nice stiddy kind of a 
fellow. He isn’t any too old yet, neither ; but then, 
he isn’t the kind that girls seem to take to now- 
adays. You was a good deal like him, Liph Hunter, 
as I remember you ; and Sarah showed her good 
sense ” — 

“ Now, Keziah ! ” exclaimed aunt Sarah. “ Do 
you mean to say that all the good sense was on 
one side . 

“I can’t say it was. No; but then Mr. Sadler 
does seem to me just as if he’d been brought up in 
the country. There isn’t any thing citified about 
him.” 

That was high praise from her; but uncle Liph 
replied, — 

“ So he was. That’s so. But he’s a city man 
now, all over.” 

It occurred to Roxy, at that moment, that, how- 
ever pleasant the lakeside-path might be that Sun- 
day evening in June, it was likely to be dusky; and 
she suddenly exclaimed, — 

“ Mother, I’d ought to have gone with ’em. What 
if they couldn’t find their way } ” 

“ Oh ! I guess they can. Why, Roxy, they are 
both of them grown up.” 

“Yes, but tley growed up in the city: I didn’t.” 

“ They won’t get lost, I guess,” said aunt Keziah. 
“ He knows enough not to walk into the lake.” 


206 


AMONG THE LANES. 


I do hope he’ll let the boat alone,” said Roxy. 
“The oars are ’way up on the bank.” 

“So they are,” said Piney; “but they won’t go 
a-boating Sunday evening. — Bi, don’t you kind o’ 
wish it was to-morrow morning } ” 

Bi rubbed his eyes a little, as he replied, “Well, 
no. I believe I’d rather take a good sleep first. 
It’s a sleepy sort of day.” 

It had been hard enough to keep from “talking 
boat ” anyhow, and the two boys retired to their 
own room somewhat earlier than usual. Therefore 
only the older people were left to sit up for the 
return of Mr. Sadler and Mary ; and, when these 
did come back, it was through the front door, and 
into the parlor. There was nobody there then but 
uncle Liph and aunt Sarah ; for grandfather Hunter 
and Piney’s mother had gone to bed, and aunt 
Keziah was out in the milk-room. 

“Did you find the path too narrow for you.?” 
asked uncle Liph, as they walked slowly in, and 
were coming across the room. 

“No,” said Mr. Sadler. “We have made up our 
minds that it will be wide enough for two.” 

Then aunt Sarah suddenly sprang up and took 
Mary in her arms, and hugged her; and uncle Idph 
shook hands with Mr. Sadler very heartily. 


CHAPTER XXL 

THE VOYAGE BEGINS. 

When Piney and Bi came in to their breakfast on 
Monday morning, after the busiest kind of a time 
down by the lake, they were just in time to hear 
Roxy say to Mr. Sadler, — 

“ If they hadn’t put me and Susie to bed when 
they did last night, I was coming out to look for 
you and Mary.” 

“Why didn’t you come ” began Mr. Sadler; but 
just then aunt Keziah asked, a little sharply, — 

“ Piney, is your boat ready to sail .? ” 

“ Oh, the boat ! ” exclaimed Roxy. 

“ She’s all ready,” said Piney. “ Kyle and Bi 
and I’ve been rigging away at her these two hours.” 

“ We’ve put in some flat stones for ballast,” said 
Bi. “She’ll carry that sail easy enough.” 

“ It’ll be a fine day,” remarked Mr. Sadler. “ I’m 
half sorry I cannot make the trial trip with you.” 

“ Couldn’t you go ? ” asked Mary, very demurely. 
“I am quite sure you would enjoy it.” 


207 


208 


AMONG THE LANES. 


“Well, no,” he said, with a slow and doubtful 
shake of his head. “I must stay and talk over 
some business matters with your father. I can’t 

go.” 

“ I can go,” said Roxy. “ Susie can take care of 
Chub and cousin Mary.” 

Piney and Bi could hardly muster patience to eat 
their breakfast ; and, after that, they came within 
an ace of going off without the basket of luncheon 
which aunt Keziah had prepared for them. 

“You’ll be hungry enough by noon,” she said. 
“ Only be sure you bring back that basket.” 

“ We will,” said Piney. “ Good-by, mother. 
Kyle’s waiting for us.” 

They were off quickly enough then ; and, just 
after they left the house, Piney said to Bi, — 

“ Wonder what can have happened to cousin 
Mary. Her eyes look for all the world as if she 
had been crying.” 

“ No, I guess not. She doesn’t cry very easy. 
Must have got something into ’em, and rubbed ’em. 
There’s Kyle. I hope he’s dug a pile of bait. Is 
the fishing any better in the upper lake than it is 
lower down ? ” 

“It’s better’n it is here, anyhow. Now for the 
sail. I just do hope it’ll work.” 

“Don’t you be afraid about that. It can’t help 
but work.” 


OFF FOR A CRUISE. 


209 


The mast was already in its place, and the boom 
and the bit of a yard were quickly fitted to theirs. 
They stov^ed away the luncheon-basket and the 
bait ; Bi luok the steering-paddle ; Piney shoved 
the boat from the landing; and then, as the sail 
was lifted, and the breeze caught and filled it, they 
heard a sound of cheering from the house. 

The whole family were out, waving their hands 
and their handkerchiefs ; and Susie and Roxy were 
running across the lawn towards the water so fast 
that they had no breath to even shout. The launch- 
ing had been accomplished more quickly than any- 
body had expected, but there was interest enough 
felt about it evidently. 

The old scow promised to make a very fair sort 
of “ cat-boat,” and slipped along quite fast ; but Bi 
remarked, — 

‘‘ The sail’s bigger for her than I thought it’d be. 
She’s too narrow to carry it in a strong wind, unless 
it were dead astern of her.” 

The other boys hardly understood him ; but they 
took it for granted that he understood himself, and 
that answered as well just then. 

“ Hurrah ! ” shouted Piney. “ No more hard pull- 
ing for us.” 

'‘Not if the wind’s right, and if there’s enough 
of it,” said Bi. 

“You can’t be sure,” said Kyle. “Sometimes 


210 


AMONG THE LANES. 


there isn’t any wind to speak of at this time o’ year. 
There’s enough now.” 

“Piney,” said Bi, “if you’ll steer, I’ll mind the 
sail. Let’s head her for the river and the upper 
lakes, and not stop to fish anywhere down here.” 

“We won’t, — not a minute.” 

The boys were nicely off, and the farmhouse was 
clear of them for the day ; but there were some 
other people in it yet. That morning seemed some- 
how to be the very nicest for Roxy and Susie that 
they had had since the city people arrived. Not 
only was the weather out of doors all that could 
be asked for, but the weather in doors was good, 
and every thing seemed to be arranged to suit the 
two girls. Aunt Keziah had taken an uncommon 
notion to keep Chub with her somewhere all the 
time. Uncle Liph and grandfather Hunter were 
planning a drive with aunt Sarah and Roxy’s 
mother. Mary Hunter and Mr. Sadler were play- 
ing chess in the front parlor all by themselves. In 
short, the girls seemed to be left altogether to their 
own devices, and what more than that could they 
have asked for } 

It seemed exactly so to them, and they did not 
ask for any thing. They just took their dolls, put 
on their wide-brimmed shade-hats, and marched out 
through the front gate, and up the north road. 

“The farther north you go,” said Roxy, “the 
cooler it is.” 


A MONSTER. 


2II 


** It isn’t north enough to be too cold right here,” 
said Susie. 

^^No,” replied Roxy; “and Piney says it’s all 
because we haven’t any north pole.” 

“ No pole } What did he mean ? ” 

“Don’t you know.? Well, when he comes home, 
you can ask him. O Susie ! There’s a darning- 
needle lit on your sunbonnet.” 

“ A darning-needle .? Lit on my bonnet .? What 
is it, Roxy .? ” 

Susie’s voice sounded a little scared ; and Roxy 
was watching, with a look which plainly expressed 
some dread of it, the great brilliant dragon-fly which 
had paused upon her cousin’s hat. 

“Susie,” she said, “take it off, and look at him. 
There he goes. Don’t you see him .? That’s his 
needle. Isn’t he beautiful .? ” 

Susie naa snatched off her hat, and she now gazed 
after the dragon-fly with open mouth and eyes. 

“ Roxy, let’s go home.” 

“What for.?” 

“Why, I don’t like those flies.” 

“ It isn’t a fly at all : it’s a darning-needle.” 

“ Is it .? Is it a kind of bird .? ” 

“Bird.? Now, Susie! It isn’t a bird neither. 
But they don’t hurt anybody. They don’t even 
sting. They only scare you a little.” 

Susie looked at her hat very carefully all over ; but 


212 


AMONG THE LANES. 


it was unharmed, and she decided not to go back to 
the house. 

“Do you ever have any humming-birds around 
here 1 ” she asked. 

“ Oh ! sometimes we do. They’re funny, ain’t 
they.? A king bumblebee is ’most as big as a 
humming-bird.” 

“What’s a king bumblebee .? ” 

“ ril show you. They ’light on thistles. We’ll 
find some.” 

There were plenty of thistles at the roadside, 
here and there, with large red flowers ; and Roxy 
and Susie stood by a patch of them for some min- 
utes, watching the bees and other winged people 
that came to make calls there. 

“That’s a honey-bee,” said Roxy. 

“ Is it .? ” asked Susie. “ How can you tell .? I 
don’t see any honey about him. He isn’t big 
either.” 

“ He’s a honey-bee,” persisted Roxy. “ Piney told 
me all about them. There now, there’s a bumble- 
bee. He’s big enough.” 

“ Oh, so he is ! I’m afraid of him. Do you s’pose 
he’d sting us .? ” 

“Not if you let him alone. Maybe he knows 
you’re a cousin of mine.” 

Susie laughed merrily at that idea; but Roxy 
looked serious about it, and Susie said, — 


BEES AND BIRDS. 


213 


Do you suppose, now, that that bee knows you? ” 

‘‘Piney says that all the bees know their neigh- 
bors. They never sting him, — not any of the bees, 
only the wasps and hornets.” 

‘‘ Show me a wasp.” 

“ There’s one, now, on that tall thistle. I’d as 
lief be bunted by a sheep as have him sting me. 
And there’s a hornet. Look how long and narrow 
and blue he is. Piney says they’re all sting.” 

“Don’t they ever make honey r” 

“I guess they don’t. Nobody’d eat hornet’s 
honey. Would you ? ” 

“ Oh ! I like honey. Look there, Roxy. What 
an awful big bee ! ” 

“ That’s a king bee ! A king bee ! ” 

“Why, I thought bees had queens. I never 
heard of a king bee.” 

“But that’s a king bumblebee. Just hear him 
hum ! ” 

It was a very loud hum indeed, as the splendid- 
looking insect arose from the flower he was on ; but 
Susie was getting tired of bees and thistles. 

“ Let’s go on, Roxy, and see if we can’t see some 
birds.” 

“ Of course we can. There’s lots and lots of 
birds everywhere. There, Susie, that’s a yellow- 
bird. See, there’s a flock of ’em. And just see 
the chipping-birds.” 


214 


AMONG THE LANES. 


Oh, yes ! ” exclaimed Susie. And there’s a 
yellow-bird with black wings.” 

And some blackbirds on the fence. Look at ’em.” 

In fact, as they strolled along, Roxy was able to 
point out to her city cousin quite a variety of birds 
and insects. A crow, a robin, a cat-bird, a meadow- 
lark, a bobolink, a blue-jay, were, one after another, 
made the subjects of her remarks ; and some of 
these were “remarkable,” if correct. 

Neither of them had any clear idea how far they 
had walked, for their small heads had been too full 
of other matters. They had looked at things, and 
talked about them, until they were beginning to feel 
a little tired. That was not so bad, but they were 
also about to receive a bit of a scare. Susie sud- 
denly turned her head in the direction in which they 
had come, exclaiming, — 

“What’s that noise, Roxy.?” 

“ That ? Why, don’t you know what that is ? 
It’s cows.” 

“ But how loud it is ! ” 

“ So it is,” said Roxy, with more anxiety in her 
face and voice. “Oh, dear mel I’m afraid it’s 
going to be a drove of cattle.” 

“ Cattle ? What shall we do ? Won’t they run 
over us .? ” 

“Of course they will. They always do. Cattle 
are awful.” 


REAL DANGER. 


215 


O mother, mother ! exclaimed poor Susie. 
“I wish I was home.” 

“ Come now, Susie, don’t cry,” said Roxy, putting 
her brave little arms about her frightened cousin. 
“It’s ever so much better just to climb the fence.” 

“ Will that save us from ’em .? ” 

“ Course it will. It’s all anybody ever does when 
there are cows a-coming. I’ve seen aunt Keziah 
climb a taller fence than this is. Let’s do it before 
they get here.” 

It was a nice rail-fence, easy to climb, even for 
such little girls as those two were ; but they were 
not on the other side of it any too soon. The drove 
of cattle was a large one, and some of the great 
lumbering oxen in front acted as if they were 
angry. The whole width of the road was crowded 
by the lowing, rushing, trampling mass of horned 
creatures. If the children had been anywhere be- 
tween the fences of that road, they would surely 
have been trodden down. As it was, they were 
entirely safe behind the rails they were peering 
between ; but it made them frightened, even then, 
to hear so much noise, and see so many pairs of 
dangerous-looking horns moving through the clouds 
of dust- 

“I’ll remember it as long as I live,” almost 
sobbed Susie. 

“Guess you’d better,” replied Roxy very posh 


2i6 


AMONG THE LANES. 


tively. ‘‘If you should ever forget to climb the 
fence, it would be awful.” 

“ I mean, I’ll remember the oxen.” 

“No, you won’t. They’re all too much alike. 
But I know our cows, every one of them : they’ve 
got names.” 

Behind that drove of cattle there were some men 
on horseback, and one or two on foot ; and another 
man, coming from the opposite direction in a lum- 
ber-wagon, stopped right in front of where the 
girls were. He had driven through the drove 
slowly, and now he seemed to be angry. 

“ There ort to be a law ag’in it,” he shouted to 
the men on horseback. “ Drivin’ a drove like that 
on such a travelled road as this, at this time o’ day ! 
Somebody might be killed.” 

“ Got any critters to sell } ” returned one of the 
horsemen dryly. “Beef’s a-goin’ down.” 

“ S’pose, now, somebody’s children — I declare, 
if there ain’t two little gals now ! They might have 
been just trampled.” 

“ Why, Susie, it’s Deacon Simmons ! ” exclaimed 
Roxy at that moment ; and then she shouted, at the 
top of her voice, — 

“ Deacon Simmons ! Deacon Simmons ! Here 
are Susie and me.” 

“Is that you, Roxy? Well, if you ain’t a pil- 
grum to-day, wuss’n you was a-Saturday ! How’d 
ye ever come to git so fur from home ? ” 


RIGHTEOUS WRATH. 


21J 


‘‘We walked,” said Roxy. 

“You did, did ye? Why, it’s a good four mile. 
Well, you’ll just git in here, and ride with me, you 
will You’re goin’ right home, you are. Did that 
there drove scare ye ? ” 

“ It scared Susie, but we remembered to climb 
the fence,” said Roxy. 

“It’s well ye did. — I say, you, mister! If I go 
to the Legislatur’ next fall. I’ll git a law passed ag’in 
such things. And if I don’t go. I’ll help send some 
other man that will.” 

“ I’ll give ye a fair price for your critters, if 
you’ve any to sell,” was all the answer he received, 
and the drovers pushed along in the dust behind 
the cattle. Roxy and Susie were clambering over 
the fence into the road again now ; and the good 
deacon stopped some remarks he began to send 
after the drovers, to get down and help the girls 
into his wagon. 

“What could have got into Keziah Merrill,” he 
said, “ to let two such bits of things ramble off 
alone ? If my wife was here, now, she’d give her a 
piece of her mind. I don’t know but what I will, 
myself, when I git there.” 

For all his indignation, however. Deacon Simmons 
chatted merrily with Roxy and Susie all the way to 
their own gate. 

There stood aunt Keziah and Roxy’s mother, 


2I8 


AMONG THE LANES. 


and cousin Mary, looking up ; and Mary ex- 
claimed, — 

It’s they, sure enough. Dear ! I sent Mr. 
Sadler the wrDng way.” 

“It’s Deacon Simmons,” said aunt Keziah. “I 
wonder where they were when he picked them up. 
He’s one of the best of men.” 

“ I’m so glad he found them ! ” exclaimed Roxy’s 
mother. “I was really alarmed when I saw those 
cattle go by.” 


CHAPTER XXII. 

A GRAND TIME. 

Somebody or other, a great while ago, said that 
the funniest thing about a river was, that its head 
and its mouth were so far apart. There is some' 
truth in it ; but for all that, every river there is 
seems to know just where to go. You never heard 
of one trying to climb over a hill. Even such a 
little bit of a river as the Ti-ough-ne-au-ga, that 
ran through those little lakes and on down the val- 
ley, was wise enough to pick out the easiest course 
to run in. For that reason the banks of it were 
quite low, except in one or two places where it had 
made or found a channel through ridges of high 
ground. Here, too, it was narrower ; and there 
were ledges of rocks on one side or the other, but 
these helped make the scenery beautiful, and did no 
manner of harm. 

The three boys thought they had never seen any 
thing finer in all their lives. Kyle Wilbur and 
Piney Hunter had seen it before, to be sure, and 

210 


220 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


had visited all of it in that very boat. But then, 
the old scow had not had a mast and sail in her 
until that morning ; and that made a great difference 
in the way every thing looked to them. 

They narrowly watched Bi in his management 
of the sail, and their respect for the boy from the 
city was very much increased by the things they 
saw him do. The curiosity was, that while the 
wind blew steadily from the south-west all the 
while, and the river made any number of crooks 
and turns, Bi kept the boat in motion in the right 
direction by changing the position of the sail. Now 
it was right over the boat for a minute or so, and 
then it would swing out a little on one side or the 
other, and then he would let it away out at right 
angles or even farther. 

We couldn’t do much with this boat in a head 
wind,” he said. “If this wind holds on all day, we’ll 
have plenty of short tacking to do on our way 
back.” 

“ What’s tacking } ” asked Kyle. 

“ Oh ! you just sail back and forth, and gain a little 
every time. I’ll show you. Besides, we can row 
home if we’ve got to.” 

“ We won’t if we can help it,” said Piney. 
“Anyhow, let’s sail right on to the upper lake. 
It’s the biggest.” 

It was not long before they came out grandly into 


JVOW FOR SPORT. 


221 


the middle lake. It was about as long as the one by 
the farmhouse, but was somewhat wider. 

As the scow moved swiftly on from the narrow 
place where the river went out of the lake, Bi no- 
ticed that both his friends were busy with their 
fishing-tackle. 

“Oh, boys!” he exclaimed, “let’s sail. Don’t 
stop to catch any fish.” 

“No,” said Piney, “we won’t stop. Only I’ve 
always thought how I could troll for pickerel if I 
only had a sailboat. I’ve got the neatest kind of 
a spoon-hook ; and here’s one for you, all rea-dy 
rigged.” 

“ A spoon-hook ! ” shouted Bi. “That’s splendid I 
Why, Piney, I’ve trolled for bluefish on Long Island 
Sound.” 

“ I brought my spoons along too,” said Kyle, 
“but I didn’t say nothing to nobody about it. I 
meant to kind o’ catch Piney.” 

“You didn’t get ahead of me this time, Kyle. — 
Bi, is a bluefish any thing like a pickerel } ” 

“ Not much to look at him, but he’ll strike at a 
hook just about the same. They’re pretty large 
fish sometimes.” 

“ Bigger than pickerel } ” 

“ Larger’n any kind of fish you ever catch here.” 

“Well, yes, of course,” said Kyle. “It’s no credit 
to them. They’ve all the ocean to grow in.” 


222 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


‘‘Yes,” said Piney : “they can swim around any- 
where, and not graze themselves against the shore.” 

“Hurrah, now!” shouted Bi : “I’ll set the boat 
steady, right up the lake; and we’ll all try our 
hands.” 

The “spoon-hooks” were just what their name 
indicated. They were of pretty good size, with 
what was shaped like the bowl of a spoon just 
above them ; and when they were pulled through 
the water, that bit of shining metal twirled and 
glittered in a way to make a pickerel imagine he 
saw the prettiest kind of a “shiner,” just ready to 
be eaten. In the course of about two minutes 
more, there were three of those deceitful hooks 
leaping and flashing along over the little waves in 
the wake of the old scow. 

It was magnificent fun. There was no worry 
about bait. There was no rowing to do ; nothing 
but to lie there in the stern of the scow, and watch 
for bites, while the light breeze did all their work 
for them and carried them northward. 

Piney Hunter could have sung something, if he 
could have remembered any song that would not 
scare fish ; and even Kyle Wilbur’s sallow face 
began to look red and earnest. 

The first bite came to Bi’s hook; and he “struck 
it,” as fishermen say, in a manner that told a story 
for his bluefishing, — that is, the other boys saw 


A BIG STRIKE. 


223 


tliat he knew how to do it ; and again they won- 
dered that a city boy, and a bit of a dandy too, 
should know so much about some things when he 
knew so little about others. 

Shouldn’t wonder if he might say the same 
thing about us,” thought Piney, ‘‘if he had us in 
the city.” 

Bi pulled in his pickerel neatly, hand over hand, 
and landed him securely on the bottom of the boat. 

“ Not a very big one,” he muttered. 

“ Well, yes,” said Piney, “ it’s fair. Guess it’ll 
weigh pretty nigh a pound. There’s more of ’em 
under that size than there are above it. I wish we 
could strike some whoppers.” 

Just at that moment there came a sharp and 
sudden tug upon his own line, which almost jerked 
it away from him. 

“You’ve got one ! ” shouted Bi. 

“Not too hard, Piney,” said Kyle coolly. “You 
might pull it out of his mouth.” 

“ Or I might break my hook or my line,” replied 
Piney, his face all one blaze of excitement. “ I say, 
boys, this one’s a regular cod-lamper. See him 
jump ! ” 

“ Give him line ! ” screamed Bi. “ That one won’t 
hold him on a dead pull. Give him line ! ” 

“That’s so,” said Kyle. “That string wasn’t 
made for fish of his size. Hullo ! I’ve got one.” 


224 


AMONG THE LANES. 


It looked like it for a moment ; but then he was 
compelled to add, — 

“ No, I haven’t : he’s off. I wasn’t ’tending to 
my own business. It’s just my luck.” 

“Yes,” said Piney, “that’s about what most folks 
call luck. It mostly comes to folks when they ain’t 
minding their own business.” 

He was pulling earnestly at his own struggling 
fish ; but Kyle replied half sulkily, — 

“You ’tend yours, or you’ll lose him.” 

There was no comfort at all in throwing away a 
good bite ; but Kyle at once let out his hook again 
with a manifest purpose of watching it more care 
fully. It was not easy, however, for him or Bi to 
keep their eyes away from Piney’s fight with his 
“ cod-lamper.” 

“I must bring him in, boys, or it’ll make me 
sick.” 

“Guess it would me,” said Bi. “Why, he’s as 
big as a bluefish, and he works a good deal harder.” 

It took a good while to master that pickerel with 
that tackle. If Piney had been in too much of a 
hurry, he surely would have lost his game ; but he 
stuck to it bravely and patiently, until at last he 
pulled him alongside of the boat. 

“Hold him steady,” said Kyle, “till I give him 
a lift.” 

“ Quick now ! ” shouted Piney. 


GOOD FUN. 


225 


Kyle was both quick and a little dexterous, and 
Piney lifted with the line as hard as was safe. In 
an instant more the pickerel was in the boat, the 
largest fish either of them had ever seen caught, in 
eilher of those lakes, by even old fishermen. 

They dropped all other fishing for a moment, to 
admire and discuss him. 

“ Hawknose John says all the fish were bigger 
in the old Indian times,” said Piney. *‘He says 
they won’t grow so large for white men.” 

‘'If they were all like that one,” began Bi ; but 
Kyle remarked, — 

“Guess the Indians didn’t have any spoon-hooks.” 

Bi Hunter lost a capital bite while he was admir- 
ing that pickerel, and Kyle Wilbur said to him, — 

“ There ! That makes me feel better. Guess I 
can catch something now.” 

So he did, before a great while ; but it was not a 
pickerel, — only a fine, large yellow perch. 

“ Those fellows don’t often strike at a spoon- 
hook,” said Piney; “but they will sometimes, — the 
larger ones.” 

“This here’s a grandfather perch,” said Kyle. 
“I’d as lief have him as a pickerel any day.” 

“ Now, boys ! ” exclaimed Bi, “let’s tack back ’way 
across the lake. If this isn’t good fun, I don’t 
know what fun is.” 

Just so ; but they sailed across the lake and half 


226 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


way back again before they caught another fish. 
Then the biting took a fresh start, and four or five 
more good fish were pulled in, not to speak of 
several fine misses.” 

“I say,” said Piney, “look here. We’ve been 
trying this ground about long enough. The upper 
lake’s the best fishing. There don’t so many go 
there.” 

The river between the middle and upper lakes 
was a mere strait, only half a mile long, windings 
and all. 

“Not so many farms around this one,” said Bi, 
as they sailed gayly into it. “More woods. Hullo, 
Piney ! Look there. Isn’t that an island ? ” 

“Rockiest kind of one,” replied Piney. “We’ll 
eat our lunch there. Let’s sail all around it first, 
and troll as we go.” 

The upper lake may have been a better fishing- 
ground, and it was true that they pulled in a greater 
number of finny folk ; but they did not get a mate 
for Piney’s pickerel. 

“Just to think,” said Kyle, “of all the shiners 
that fellow must have swallowed to bring him up ! ” 

“There’s more chance for all the little fish, now 
he’s out of the water,” said Piney. “ It’s twelve 
o’clock, boys. Don’t you begin to feel as if you 
could eat something?” 

Both of them said they did. The island itself 


ON THE ISLAND, 


227 


looked wonderfully attractive, too, as they sailed 
nearer to it, with its tall trees rising among the 
rocks and down to the water’s edge. 

“It’s just for all the world like going into the 
wilderness ! ” exclaimed Bi, as he lowered the sail. 
They were close in shore, and the old scow’s nose 
grated on the gravelly beach as Kyle responded, — 

“ Wilderness } That’s a big word for an island 
that isn’t more’n an acre and a half, and that no- 
body’d live on if you’d give it to ’em.” 

“ I don’t know about that,” said Bi. “ If I was 
rich, and wanted a good place to spend summer in, 
I don’t know but what I’d build a house right here. 
It wouldn’t do for winter, though.” 

“ Why not } ” said Piney. 

“ Why, you’d be frozen in.” 

“ No, you wouldn’t, — not much of the time. 
The lake freezes hard enough to bear a loaded 
wagon. You could drive sleighs from this island 
over to the village all winter long. The lake’s just 
the best sleighing there is.” 

“That’s so,” said Kyle. “And you can catch 
any amount of fish through the air-holes.” 

“ I brought some matches,” said Bi. “ We’ll have 
a fire in less’n no time.” 

“And we’ll cook some of our own fish,” said 
Piney. “Soon as I’ve put ’em on a string. I’ll 
wash some stones.” 


228 


AMONG THE LANES. 


Stones ? ” asked Bi. “ What for ? ” 

“To cook the fish on. It’s the way the Indians 
did it. Heat your stones good and hot. Use wide 
flat ones, you know. Beats a broiler all hollow.” 

His first care, however, was to string all his 
fish, except those he meant to cook, — three of the 
smaller pickerel, — on a stout piece of twine; and 
then he lowered the whole string into the water, 
and fastened it to the boat. 

“That’ll keep ’em fresh. Now for dinner. Oh, 
but I’m hungry ! ” 

Kyle and Bi had gathered bark and dead wood, 
and started their fire by that time ; and it was blaz- 
ing vigorously. 

“Now, Bi,” said Kyle, “you tend fire, and I’ll 
help Piney clean fish. Guess the Indians didn’t 
clean theirs much.” 

“Not much,” remarked Piney. “Sometimes they 
just daubed ’em with clay, and wrapped ’em in bass- 
wood leaves, and covered ’em up in the hot ashes, 
and let ’em roast. I read about it.” 

It was well they were so hungry, for aunt Keziah 
had put up a liberal luncheon for them. Still, not 
any thing in the basket tasted half so well as did 
those fish. 

“ Best picnic I ever heard of ! ” exclaimed Bi. 
“If I lived out here. I’d come over to this island 
once a week.” 


THE ISLAND DESERTED, 


229 


“ Yes,” growled Kyle ; ‘^and then everybody else’d 
come, and pretty soon there wouldn’t be a fish left 
in the lake. They’re gettin’ kind o’ scurse now.” 

Kyle was a little inclined to look at the shady 
side of things, but it may be that he was more 
than half right. After dinner, however, the boys 
spent nearly an hour in rambling over the island, 
and climbing among the rocks ; and Bi pointed out 
at least half a dozen good spots to build a house on. 

“Yes,” said Kyle; “and if you wanted to, you 
could build a stone house. All your stone’d be 
right here handy.” 

“ So would your timber,” said Piney, “ if you 
wanted a log house.” 

Bi said he would wait a while before he began 
to build, and then they agreed that it was about 
time to be moving. 

“ Let’s go for some more fish,” said Piney; “and 
then we’d better make tracks for home.” 

“ Guess it’ll be making tacks too,” remarked Bi ; 
but the scow was right there, all ready, and the 
heavy string of fish was lifted out of the water and 
into the boat. 

“ Boys,” said Bi, as he raised the sail, “ shove her 
off; but I just hate to have to come away from that 
island.” 

“ So do I ! ” The other two said it in the same 
breath; but the sail filled, and away they went. 


CHAPTER XXIIL 

WHAT BECAME OF THE LUNCH-BASKET. 

Deacon Simmons did indeed “give aunt Keziah 
Merrill a piece of his mind ” about letting that pair 
of children wander away so far all by themselves. 
She had less, too, to say in her own defence than 
most people would have expected from her. She 
insisted, however, that the deacon should stay to 
dinner. 

“It’s almost ready,” she said; “and Mr. Sadler 
won’t be gone long.” 

“ Where’s he gone ? ” asked the deacon. 

“ He ? Oh ! he’s hunting after Susie and Roxy.” 

“Well, then, yes. If he keeps on a-huntin’ till 
he finds ’em, I might as well git into my waggin 
and drive on.” 

“No, you won’t,” said aunt Keziah very decidedly. 
“ I won’t hear to it.” 

“But, Miss Merrill,” said the deacon, “I’m an 
old man ; and if he goes on after them little gals, 
I mayn’t be livin’ when he lights onto ’em.” 

230 


MISTAKES. 


231 


“ Now, deacon ! ” 

“ He’s coming ! ” exclaimed cousin Mary, from 
behind the curtains of the parlor window. “ Right 
up the road. I do wish he wouldn’t walk so fast 
this broiling hot day.” 

“ Found ’em, has he ” asked the deacon. 

“No, sir,” said Roxy. “Mr. Sadler didn’t find 
either of us, ’cause we weren’t there.” 

“Why, no,” said Susie, “of course he didn’t. 
Here we are.” 

“I’m right down glad of that too,” said Deacon 
Simmons. “ And that’s Mr. Sadler a-comin’ 1 1 

saw him in meetin’ last Sunday. ’Pears to be a 
promisin’ young man. Just a leetle stiff and stuck 
up. Don’t see why he should be, nuther, for he 
ain’t over and above good-lookin’.” 

Aunt Sarah and Piney’s mother were both smil- 
ing queerly at Mary, just then, for some reason ; but 
she did not say a word in reply to the deacon. She 
walked half-way out to the gate, though, as Mr. Sad- 
ler came up the road ; and she called out to him, — 

“They have come home, Mr. Sadler. They are 
both quite safe.” 

“The little scamps!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been 
racing everywhere.” 

“ Mr. Simmons found them on the road, at quite 
a distance from the house, and brought them home. 
Dinner is waiting for you, George, — Mr. Sadler.” 


232 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


‘‘So am I, George,” said old Deacon Simmons, 
with an odd twist of his great, broad, stooping 
shoulders. “Young men nowadays seem mostly to 
hunt in the wrong direction.” 

Roxy and Susie had kept still about their wonder- 
ful adventures about as long as they could. Now 
that they found they were not scolded very se- 
verely, all the birds and insects and flowers required 
to be told of eagerly. When, however, they came 
to speak of the trampling drove of angry cattle, 
and of how they climbed over the fence to get out 
of the way, aunt Sarah caught Susie right up in 
her arms, and hugged her, and Roxy’s mother sud- 
denly exclaimed, — 

“ O Roxy, darling ! Come here ! ” 

Then, while she was hugging Roxy, her eyes were 
shut hard for a moment, and so were aunt Keziah’s, 
and aunt Sarah’s. 

“That’s right,” said old Deacon Simmons. 
“’Pears to me sometimes, when I think of it, the 
Lord knows just when to put a fence ag’in the need 
of one. Only some on ’em don’t get to be staked 
and ridered the way they’d ought to be.” 

At the dinner-table, all of the ladies except cousin 
Mary seemed determined to help Deacon Simmons 
over again before his plate was half empty ; but the 
talking would have dragged a little if it had not 
been for Roxy and Susie. 


BECALMED. 


233 


** I wonder how the boys are getting along,” said 
aunt Keziah at last. 

‘‘They’re doing well enough,” remarked Mr. Sad- 
ler placidly. “I don’t believe they are at all in a 
hurry to get home.” 

A good many things were said about the young 
sailors ; and all agreed quite heartily in the. hope 
expressed by Deacon Simmons, that “they wouldn’t 
get themselves drownded before they finished their 
v’y’ge.” 

At the very hour when their friends at the farm- 
house were talking about them, Piney and Bi and 
Kyle were floating away from the island. There 
was just wind enough at first to fill the sail fairly; 
but the old scow went along more and more slowly, 
and before they had gone any great distance the 
water was as still as a washtub, and the sail hung 
limp and idle. 

“ What a dead calm ! ” said Bi. 

“Never mind,” said Piney. “We can’t troll, but 
we’ve plenty of bait. We can just anchor and 
fish.” 

“ ’Tisn’t as good fun as trolling,” remarked Kyle ; 
“but there’s crowds of pumpkin-seeds ’most any- 
where about here.” 

So it proved, as soon as they put out their lines ; 
and as fast as fish were caught, Piney insisted on 
stringing them. Now, too, that they were at anchor. 


234 


AMONG THE LANES, 


he hung the strings of fish over the side of the 
boat to keep them fresh. 

‘‘There’s sun enough to dry ’em all up if we 
don’t,” he said. “ Uncle Liph can’t eat fish if they 
ain’t just about so.” 

Something like an hour went by ; and the lake, 
and the woods on the shore, and all the rocks and 
trees on the island, made up a picture of perfect 
peace and quiet. It was enough to make the boys 
feel sleepy, and not one of them thought of taking 
any notice of the sky. 

If they had done so, to be sure, they would not 
have seen many clouds ; but they might possibly 
have noted at last a sort of misty cloud-bank in 
the east. 

They did not see it at all until Kyle looked up 
from putting a bullhead on the string, and said, — 

“I say, boys, there’s some wind a-comin’. We 
won’t have to row home, after all.” 

“ Wind } ” exclaimed Bi. “ That’s so. It’ll be 
here quick too. Let’s have up the anchor.” 

He at once began to pull upon the anchor-rope ; 
and Piney and Kyle, just to be good sailors, and 
help him, hoisted the sail. 

“ Hold on ! ” shouted Bi. “We’re not half ready. 
It looks as if there was going to be a squall.” 

There had been a ripple on the water away to- 
wards the western shore of the lake. It was just 


NOW, SWIM! 


235 


a little rough patch at first ; but it grew and spread 
and darkened with sudden swiftness, and it came 
sweeping on towards the boat while Bi was lifting 
the anchor. 

“ It’s coming ! ” shouted Kyle, as he gave an 
extra tug upon the halyards of the sail. 

“ Here it is ! ” exclaimed Piney, as the cool breeze 
blew sharply on his cheek. 

“ Kyle ! ” shouted Bi excitedly. “ Drop that rope ! ” 

Kyle obeyed, and dropped it instantly ; but a 
knot on it caught upon one of the seats, and held 
firmly, just as the sail swelled out with the full 
force of the fierce gust which followed. 

It seemed for a moment as if the mast would 
surely break ; but it was a tough, well-seasoned 
piece of spruce, and it bent without snapping. If 
it had broken then, the boat would not have been 
upset ; but, as it was, the wind seemed to take a 
stronger and stronger hold of the sail, and forced it 
over farther and farther, until one of the large flat 
stones they had put in for ballast slipped out of its 
place. That settled the matter, and over went the 
old scow. 

Bi and Kyle went over with it, but Piney was in 
the water already : as soon as he had seen what 
was coming, he had sprung right in without one 
second of hesitation. As he afterwards explained 
his sudden jump, — 


236 


AMONG THE LANES. 


“ I didn’t care to get myself tangled up with any 
thing ; ” but Bi replied emphatically, — 

“Yes, that’s so; but the moment you were out 
of that boat, our biggest piece of ballast was gone. 
It was worse for the boat than having that stone 
slip.” 

“ I never thought of that.” 

“Well, no more did I just then.” 

Probably he did not ; for “just then ” they were 
all puffing around in the water, and Bi himself was 
feeling particularly glad that he knew how to swim. 

“I say, boys,” he shouted, “shall we strike for 
the shore, or for the island The island’s nearest. 
Guess I could swim ashore, though, with one of the 
paddles to help keep me up.” 

“No, sir-ee,” said Piney. “We’ll just right the 
old scow where she is, and bail her out.” 

“ Can we do that ” 

“Course we can,” said Kyle, “if the water isn’t 
too rough. We’ve tipped her over and righted her 
lots of times.” 

Bi had not thought of such a feat as that, but 
he took hold manfully to do his share. 

“ I see what’s the matter,” he said, after they had 
worked in vain for a few minutes. “ It’s the sail. 
We must manage to get it down.” 

“Of course,” said Piney. “What a stupid I am, 
not to have thought of that ! ” 


GOOD PLUCK. 


237 


There was nothing very difficult about it, and 
before long they had the old boat righted ; but she 
was nearly full, and her sides were only an inch or 
two above water. Half the waves that came went 
right over into her ; and the prospect did not seem 
a very bright one, unless the wind should go down. 

Nevertheless, the boys worked away with a will ; 
and they were gaining pretty handsomely, when 
Piney suddenly exclaimed, — 

“ Look here, Kyle, don’t you see ? Bi’s getting 
tired out. He can’t swim like you and me.” 

“ What on earth’ll we do ? ” 

“ I could hold on a while yet,” began Bi bravely ; 
but his face was a little pale, and Piney interrupted 
him with, — 

No, you can’t. You go to the stern of the 
boat, and climb over in. She’ll carry you all alone.” 

Bi did so, for he was really beginning to feel 
exhausted. He was delighted to find that his 
weight only sank the boat down to about where 
she had been when they began. 

‘‘ I’ll bale like sixty now ! ” he exclaimed. ‘‘ I can 
work ten times faster than I could before.” 

That was evident ; and the effect was so good, 
that in a few minutes Piney said to him, — 

‘‘Try and pull in the anchor, Bi. We’ll help 
you, — only we mustn’t upset her again.” 

It was what Kyle Wilbur described as “mighty 


238 


AMONG THE LANES. 


ticklish kind of business ; but the anchor was 
safely lifted in, and Bi returned to his toil of bailing. 
They were all using their hats for dippers ; and, on 
the whole, thzy answered the purpose pretty well. 

Bi,” said Piney, ‘‘ you stick to your bailing, 
while Kyle and I tow her towards the island.” 

“ Pity we’ve lost all our fish,” said Kyle mourn- 
fully. 

Lost ’em } ” said Piney. ‘‘ Why, no, we haven’t 
lost a fin of ’em. But I’d forgotten all about them. 
We never can tow the boat with those strings of 
fish dragging alongside.” 

If they haven’t staid hitched to her ! ” exclaimed 
Kyle. So they have. Why, we can h’ist ’em 
right in.” 

‘‘Careful!” said Piney. “Take it easy, or we’ll 
have the boat over. Bi’s bailing like a good fellow. 
If it wasn’t for some of the waves washing in, he’d 
get ahead fast. Now, Kyle ! ” 

Bi helped them lift the fish in ; but his face wore 
a somewhat mortified expression when he saw Piney 
strike out towards the shore with the hitching-rope 
of the boat fastened to his coat-collar, while Kyle 
Wilbur was pushing with all his might at the stern. 
He envied them their strength and skill as swim- 
mers, but he tried all the harder to do his full duty 
with his hat. 

The paddles and seats had all been saved, of 
course, and the fishing-rods. The trolling-b’.es b;id 


COUNTING UP THE DROWNED. 


239 


been tied to the thole-pins, and were safe. All that 
was lost, they thought and said, was the bait-box ; 
until Piney turned over in the water, and ex- 
claimed, — 

“The lunch-basket ! ” 

“ Bottom of the lake,” replied Kyle. 

“That’s too bad,” said Bi. 

“Aunt Keziah’ll think so,” said Piney ruefully. 
“ Basket, napkins, plates, forks, knives, spoons, 
pepperbox, and pickle-bottle, all drowned.” 

“ It can’t be helped,” said Kyle. “ It was too 
deep to dive for ’em.” 

Altogether too deep ; and the basket was left to 
its fate, while the boys manfully worked their way 
to the shore. 

When they were once there, it was easy to drag 
the boat half out of the water, upon a sloping beach, 
and turn her up on one side to drain. It was much 
easier than doing any more bailing in that hat sun- 
shine. Then she was launched again, with more 
stones in her for ballast ; but the afternoon was 
pretty well used up when they were ready to start 
for home. So were the boys ; but then the wind 
was fair and strong and westerly, so that they had 
no hard work of rowing before them. If it had 
not been for the basket, the fun of the day would 
hardly have been diminished at all by such a small 
matter as a shipwreck, and a swim for dear life, 
— now it was all over. 


CHAPTER XXI\ 

PRIZES AND SURPRISES. 

Late that afternoon, and a good while after 
Deacon Simmons climbed into his wagon and 
drove away, uncle Liph Hunter came back in the 
carryall. Of course he brought the mail ; but they 
were all a little surprised to see grandfather also, 
and both he and uncle Liph seemed to be unusually 
bright and smiling. 

“ Guess he doesn’t know about us and the 
cattle,” said Roxy to Susie. ‘‘They didn’t tell 
him yet.” 

“Mother’ll tell him,” said Susie; but just then 
aunt Sarah was asking him what kept him so long, 
and aunt Keziah was inquiring w’hether or not he 
had had any dinner. 

“Plenty,” said uncle Liph, — “plenty. I took 
dinner with your minister and the academy princi- 
pal, and three or four other great men.” 

“You did.!^” asked aunt Sarah. “How did that 
.happen > And what makes you look so happy .? ” 

240 


so MUCH FOR FIREWORKS. 


241 


“Well, yes, I’m happy; and it’s funny too. The 
fact is. I’ve some news for the family.” 

“News.?” exclaimed aunt Keziah. “What can 
it be.?” 

“ I’ll tell you. It’s great. They’ve been giving 
the prizes for the exhibition and to the scholars. 
The teachers, of course, reported who were the 
best in all the regular classes ; but they selected 
a committee of independent gentlemen, in the audi- 
ence, to decide upon the prizes for the declamation.” 

“Now, that was only fair,” said aunt Keziah 
approvingly. 

“Fair.?” said uncle Liph. “So it was. So it 
was. But who do you think got the prize .? ” 

“ Do tell us,” said she. 

“ Well, the report of the committee says, * First 
prize for excellence in declamation, Master Kyle 
Wilbur.’ ” 

“You don’t say!” almost shouted aunt Keziah. 
“ I declare ! It was his fireworks did that.” 

“The teachers said about as much. I don’t 
think they more than half liked it, but they couldn’t 
very well help themselves. Then there was a sec- 
ond prize.” 

“Who got that .?” asked Mary. 

“The first prize was a big dictionary, and the 
second was a fine set of story-books.” 

“ Oh I who got them .? ” exclaimed Susie. 


242 


AMONG THE LANES. 


A young lady,” said unde Liph. 

“ A young lady ? ” 

“Yes, and her name is Roxy Hunter.” 

Oh, what a shout there was then, from Roxy’s 
mother and aunts, and from cousin Mary ! Mr. Sad- 
ler picked up Roxy, and tossed her almost to the 
ceiling. 

“Poor Piney!” muttered aunt Keziah. “I do 
wish he’d won something. But he’ll be as glad 
about Kyle as if he’d won it himself.” 

“ Piney ” said uncle Liph. “ Why, he’s nothing 
to complain of. I was proud enough of all they 
had to say about him. He is marked first in more 
than half the classes he is in. I brought home 
five or six nice books for him : they are out in the 
carriage. Where is he now } ” 

“ Piney and Bi and Kyle are out sailing on the 
lake yet,” said aunt Keziah; “but it’s about time 
they were home. I do hope nothing has happened 
to ’em. They were going to go clean through to 
the upper lake.” 

Another hour went by without any glimpse of 
the boys, however, and then another hour ; and the 
people at the farmhouse began to feel almost un- 
easy when they found tea-time drawing near. 

“ Shall I go and look for them } ” asked Mr. 
Sadler of cousin Mary. 

“No, indeed. Didn’t you hear what Deacon 
Simmons said } ” 


KYLE^S MO THEE. 


243 


“What was that ? 

“Why, that the young men nowadays didn’t know 
which direction to hunt in.” 

“ That’s so,” remarked Mr. Sadler slowly. 
“That’s the reason none of them ever find any- 
body. I guess I won’t go after the boys.” 

Just then a tall lady came in through the gate 
somewhat hurriedly ; and aunt Keziah exclaimed, 
the moment she saw her, — 

“ If there isn’t Kyle’s mother ! I wonder if she’s 
alarmed about him.” 

Mrs. Wilbur was a neighbor, and she walked 
right into the house without any ceremony. She 
was at once introduced to the visitors from the city, 
but had been well aware that they would be there. 
She was tall and thin, and her face was as “peaked ” 
as Kyle’s ; but she looked as if she might be a 
woman of strong common-sense. 

“Didn’t my Kyle go a-boatin’ with your Piney.?” 
she soon asked of Piney’s mother. 

“ Yes, — with him and his cousin Bi.” 

“Well, don’t it seem to you as if they’d been 
gone about long enough ? Kyle’s got his cows to 
go for, and there’s the pigs to feed. But then, I 
s’pose it’s vacation-time, and boys must be boys.” 

“Your boy seems to be a very promising one,” 
said uncle Liph. Have you heard from the village 
to-day ” 


244 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


“ Not one word of any kind. Do you mean from 
the academy.? Now, I do declare! I knew that 
caper of his on exhibition-day would get him into 
a scrape, but I just couldn’t help laughin’.” 

“ Everybody laughed,” said uncle Liph. “ I did, 
I know. But that wasn’t all of it, Mrs. Wilbur. 
The committee laughed so hard that they awarded 
Kyle the first prize for declamation.” 

“You don’t say! The first prize to my Kyle.? 
Now, if that isn’t somethin’ worth while ! Why, 
it’ll be the makin’ of him. All he’s been a-needin’, 
this ever so long, is a little settin’-up.” 

“ He’s got it now,” said grandfather Hunter. 
“It’s a dictionary, — largest size that’s printed.” 

“ Is that so .? He’ll go through it, then, he will. 
You see, he and Piney Hunter are neighbors, and 
they’re good friends too ; but Piney beats him too 
bad, most of the time, on books and such things. 
And now he’s gone and won a prize, right over 
Piney’s head. I declare ! ” 

They all sympathized too sincerely with Mrs. 
Wilbur’s pleasure to say any thing just then about 
Piney’s school record, for Kyle had scored no prizes 
there. Even aunt Keziah shut her lips resolutely ; 
but Roxy marched forward with, — 

“ Kyle got one prize, Mrs. Wilbur ; but I got the 
other. I didn’t forget a word of my piece.” 

“You got a prize, my dear.?” said Mrs. Wilbur. 


BAD FOR HATS, 


245 


“I’m glad of it. — But, Mrs. Hunter, Keziah, don’t 
you think those boys ought to be home by this 
time } ” 

Mr. Sadler and Mary had walked out on the lawn 
while the rest were talking; and just at that mo- 
ment they heard him shout, — 

“ Here they come ! All three of them, — boat 
and all.” 

Everybody was up in an instant, and the parlor 
was left empty. 

There were the young fishermen, indeed ; and 
they sailed rapidly in towards the landing-place 
where their friends were hurrying down to meet 
them. 

They were all there, safe and sound ; but they 
were not by any means the neatly dressed party of 
young fellows that had sailed so gayly away that 
morning. They had been well dried by the sun 
and wind, to be sure, on their way home ; but there 
was no need for them to tell that they had been 
in the water. And then, such looking hats ! It 
does not improve a hat at all to bail out a boat 
with it. 

The boys were in splendid spirits, however ; and, 
as they came in, they lifted their strings of fish, 
and swung them proudly around, as much as to 
say, — 

“ Do you see that ? ” 


246 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


“ Piney,” sharply demanded aunt Keziah, “have 
you been upset ? ” 

“No, ma’am,” said Piney ; “but the boat was, 
and so were Bi and Kyle. I went in before the old 
thing had time to go over.” 

“ Piney ! ” eagerly exclaimed his mother, “ were 
you far from shore } ” 

“ Oh, no ! Not more than a quarter of a mile. — 
Bi swam splendidly, uncle Liph.” 

“ So did Kyle, didn’t he 1 ” asked Mrs. Wilbur ; 
and then she added, — 

“Kyle, you’ve won the first prize for declama- 
tion ! ” 

“Mother!” exclaimed Kyle, with a sudden flush 
in his thin face. “Is that so.? Why, it can’t be 
possible. Not the way I did it, with fireworks all 
around the deck.” 

“Hurrah!” shouted Piney. “That’s as good as 
my big pickerel. Look at that, uncle Liph. Caught 
him with a spoon-hook.” 

“And Roxy won the second prize,” said aunt 
Keziah. 

Bi and Piney and Kyle joined in another hurrah 
over that bit of information; but Piney added, at 
the end of it, — 

“Tell you what, mother. I’m glad that only we 
boys were in the boat when she went over. It was 
a squall did it.” 


THEY WERE NOT HR OWNED/ 247 

“ Oh, my son ! ” 

“ ril tell you all about it. The boat’s safe enough ; 
out we were a little careless, — that’s all. But, 
mother, if Kyle’s prize dictionary had been aboard 
of that scow, it would have gone all the way down 
with the basket.” 

“The basket.?” exclaimed aunt Keziah. “You 
don’t mean to say you’ve gone and lost that basket, 
and all the things in it .? ” 

“ Well, no. I didn’t mean to say it was lost. 
We know just about where it is.” 

“ But it’s in the lake .? ” 

“Yes, aunt Keziah,” said Piney, very mournfully. 
“That’s so. It’s in the lake.” 

“I’m glad you ain’t, then. Come out of the boa^' 
You and Bi go and get ready for supper.” 

“ Come, Kyle,” said Mrs. Wilbur. “ I don’t keer 
one red cent how wet you be. Come along.” 

“I don’t care much, either,” said Kyle. “But 
look at my string of fish.” 

“Elizabeth,” said aunt Keziah to Piney’s mother, 
“just see what a fuss Liph and Sarah are making 
over Bi; Mary too; and even Susie. Look at ’em! 
Why, the boy wasn’t drowned at all.” 

“Richard! Piney, my boy!” exclaimed she, in- 
stead of answering aunt Keziah. 

Piney was holding her hand just then, as they 
walked along; and he felt it press his own very 


248 


AMONG THE LANES. 


hard, but he said nothing. Aunt Keziah was silent 
for a moment, and coughed a little ; and then she 
remarked, — 

“Yes. Well, that’s so. I feel just so about it. 
They are splendid boys, — all of ’em. But I’m 
almost afraid they’re likely to be keerless with that 
there pesky old boat.” 


CHAPTER XXV. 

INTO THE VACATION. 

The evening, after what Bayard Hunter called 
‘‘ the cruise of the scow, ” was by all odds the 
brightest one he had yet had at the farmhouse. 
He and Piney seemed to be ever so much better 
acquainted, and to understand each other per- 
fectly ; and there were no schoolbooks and lessons 
in the way now. That meant that Piney was really 
free to be a boy, and that vacation had actually 
come. 

As for books, indeed, there were the prizes uncle 
Liph had brought home from the academy ; and,, 
besides these, there were half a dozen volumes of 
Cooper’s novels that he himself had purchased in 
the village for his nephew, as soon as he got away 
from the trustees. 

Do you know what these are for ? ” he asked, 
as Piney thanked him. 

‘‘No, sir. I can’t guess.” 

“ Well, young man, there was no prize for punct- 

249 


250 


AMONG THE LAKES, 


Lial attendance; and I saw by the record that you 
had not missed one recitation all last term.” 

“ He never does,” said aunt Keziah. 

“Well, that’s it. That’s what these are for,” 
said uncle Liph. 

“ Oughtn’t I to have one, then } ” asked Roxy. 

“ What for ? ” said grandfather. 

“ ’Cause I’m punct’le,” said she. 

“ O Roxy ! ” exclaimed her mother. 

“ Why, mother, ain’t I Ain’t I always punct’le 
when I’m there ? When I don’t go, why, of course 
I can’t be.” 

“ There’s good logic in that,” said uncle Liph. 
“It’s all right, Roxy. You were very punctual at 
(he exhibition, and you won a prize.” 

“ Well, but Piney’s got his prize already, and 
mine hasn’t come yet.” 

“Yes, it has,” he said, as he pulled a package out 
from under his chair. “ I’ve kept it back long 
enough. What do you think of all these } ” 

Roxy could not have told him, not for any money ; 
and there was a general riot until she and Susie 
were fairly settled on the floor with those books all 
to themselves for a while. 

Aunt Keziah had by no means heard all she 
wanted to about the sailing-trip, and the boys had 
plenty to tell her. 

“ I do believe I’d almost like to try a voyage in 


WBEN BUST IS BETTER THAN WATER. 25 I 

her myself,” said uncle Liph, as they related the 
performances of the scow. 

Yes,” said Mr. Sadler. ‘‘So would I, — all but 
the upset. It isn’t everybody can swim out of a 
scrape as those boys did.” 

“ No,” said Roxy ; “ but you can climb out, if 
there’s any oxens coming.” 

She had been aching to tell Bi and Piney about 
her own travels, and it was getting very near time 
for her and Susie to go to bed. 

She and Susie helped one another now, in a way 
that mixed up the story a little ; but Roxy was 
entirely satisfied when Piney told her he would 
rather swim through a whole lake-full of cold water 
and fish than through a drove of angry cattle. 

“Unless,” she remarked, “you was old Deacon 
Simmons, and had a wagon to ride in.” 

“Then I wouldn’t care so much,” he said. “A 
good big wagon, with two horses and a dog, is 
almost as good as a boat.” 

“And you can’t blow it over,” added Roxy; “but 
it’s awful dustier than the lake is.” 

They made a beautiful evening of it. Piney’s 
mother and cousin Mary played on the piano, and 
sang ; and then, after the children were in bed, 
grandfather said he was tired, and went too ; and 
Bi and Piney got out the chess board. Then 
Piney’s mother came, and sat down by the boys ; 


252 


AMONG THE LANES. 


and uncle Liph and aunt Sarah went out on the 
cool piazza. All of a sudden, aunt Keziah looked 
up, and said to Piney’s mother, — 

“ Elizabeth, what has become of Mary and of Mr. 
Sadler 1 ” 

“They’ve gone fora walk, Keziah. To-morrow’s 
the last day he can stay here.” 

“Is it.!*” exclaimed Piney. “Then we must show 
him some fun in the hay-field. The men say there 
are more bumblebees’-nests than they ever knew 
before. Some of ’em are built right down in the 
grass where they’re mowing.” 

“ Don’t any of the men ever get stung .? ” asked 
Bi. 

“ Guess they do, — every man of ’em. We’ll try 
for some bumblebees’ honey, though. It’s the 
sweetest you ever tasted.” 

“ We may get stung ourselves a-getting it.” 

“ Well, yes, we may ; but we sha’n’t have scythes 
in our hands. I hardly ever get stung. You 
needn’t, hardly, unless you run away.” 

“ Run .? ” asked Bi. “ Can’t you run away from 
’em .? ” 

“I’d like to see a man that can run faster’n a 
bumblebee can fly. I guess not. The only way is 
to stand right up to it, and brush ’em off each 
other.” 

“ Isn’t it kind o’ cruel ? ” 


ARCHERY, 


253 


“No,” said Piney. “The mowing breaks up 
most of the nests anyhow, and somebody might as 
well get the honey.” 

Whether or not Piney was right about that, he 
had always considered bees’-nests fair prey, as all 
country boys do ; and he and Bi awoke, next morn- 
ing, with a sort of preparatory buzzing in their cars. 

“ Let’s go and practise with my bow and arrows,” 
said Piney. “ We can shoot till breakfast.” 

“ All right,” said Bi. “ I mean to go for some 
pickerel, Indian fashion, while I’m here ; and I’ve 
got to learn to shoot.” 

It was easy enough to set up a target out on the 
lawn ; but Bi quickly discovered, as he expressed it, 
that he was “ not one bit of an Indian.” 

“You’d starve on a bow and arrows,” said Piney. 
“ Let me show you.” 

Bi would hardly have believed it possible for any 
boy to draw that bowstring so far back, and send 
an arrow so straight and to such a distance. 

“ What a thump it gave the target ! ” he ex- 
claimed. “ It’s just as well it wasn’t a man.” 

“ Or a pane of glass.” 

“And the Indians shot a good deal better than 
that.” 

“ Of course they did. Why, they killed deer and 
bears, and all sorts of animals, with their stone- 
headed arrows.” 


254 


AMONG THE LANES. 


‘‘Yes,” said Bi, “and men too. Hullo! Mr. 
Sadler and Mar}'- are coming. Let him try.” 

That was the very thing they were coming for ; 
and cousin Mary stood still, with her beautiful new 
white straw hat swinging in her hand by its ribbon, 
while Mr. Sadler took the bow and one of the blunt 
wooden-headed arrows, and started to see what he 
could do with them. 

“ O Susie ! ” shouted Roxy, on the piazza 
“ They’re bow-and-arrowing out on the lawn.” 

“And Mr. Sadler’s going to shoot,” said Susie. 
“ Let’s go see.” 

Mr. Sadler had fitted the arrow to the string 
just then, and was beginning to pull on it : but the 
bow was harder to bend than he had expected ; 
and just as he was raising it, and was turning 
towards the target, his finger slipped from the end 
of the arrow. 

Cousin Mary had been looking hard at the target, 
as if she expected to see that arrow sticking in 
the middle of it the next moment ; but Mr. Sadler 
suddenly exclaimed, — 

“ Well, now ! ” 

And Roxy, who was running across the lawn, 
like a little deer, in short dresses and no bonnet, 
shouted, — 

“O cousin Mary I He’s shooted your new hat.” 

Bi and Piney tried hard not to laugh, but the 


A BROAD TARGET, 


255 


harder they tried the more they both looked as if 
they wanted to. 

There was no mistake about it, however. There 
lay Mary’s hat, ten feet away from her on the grass, 
with the arrow sticking mercilessly right through 
the middle of the crown. 

“ Oh, never mind ! ” said Mary, with a very crim- 
son blush. The arrow isn’t hurt a bit.” 

‘‘ But the hat is,” said Roxy breathlessly, as she 
picked it up. 

“ Glad nobody’s head was in it, though,” remarked 
Bi. 

“Take another arrow, Mr. Sadler,” said Piney. 
“You made a centre shot that time, anyhow.” 

Poor Mr. Sadler’s face was very much flushed, 
and he hardly knew what to say ; but z msin Mary 
wore so kind and smiling a look that he Just took 
the arrow from Piney, and turned towards the 
target. 

Such a vigorous pull as he now gave that bow* 
string ! 

When he let go, the arrow never paused to make 
any dents on the target. It went at least twenty 
feet above any thing so low as that, and on and on, 
till it was tired out, and tumbled over into the lake. 

“Never mind,” said Piney. “It’ll float ashore. 
We’ll find it some time. There goes the breakfast- 
bell.” 


256 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


‘^I’m ready!’* exclaimed Bi, as they started for 
the house. 

‘‘ Here is your hat, Miss Hunter,” said Mr. Sad- 
ler, very politely indeed ; and Roxy’s ears were the 
only pair among them all that heard her answer, in 
a very low tone of voice, — 

“Thank you, George.” 

And then Roxy was very sure she heard him 
say,— 

“Mary!” but she did not catch a word of the 
rest of it. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

BUMBLEBEES AND HONEY. 

Hardly were the family seated at the breakfast- 
table that morning, before Roxy asked, — 

“Isn’t cousin Mary real good, aunt Keziah .? I 
think so.” 

“ Why is she so good, my dear ” 

“ Because Mr. Sadler shooted one of Piney’s ar- 
rows right through her nice, beautiful hat.” 

“ That was very wrong of Mr. Sadler,” said aunt 
Keziah. 

“ Oh ! but,” said Roxy, “ cousin Mary didn’t scold 
him one bit. She was just as good ! ” 

“ Why, Roxy, it was an accident ! ” exclaimed 
Mary, with a great blush all over her face. “ You 
don’t suppose Mr. Sadler meant to do it ? ” 

“ He didn’t even say he was sorry. He just took 
another of Piney’s arrows, and shooted it away into 
the lake.” 

“What did Piney say to that?” asked uncle 
Liph. 

257 


258 


AMOJ\rG THE LAKES, 


“ Piney s always good. But I guess he doesn’t 
want to let George have any more arrows.” 

“Hush!” said her mother. “You mustn’t call 
Mr. Sadler ‘ George.’ ” 

“Cousin Mary does/’ began Roxy; and Susie 
added, — 

“Why, that’s his first name. I’ve heard father 
call him so.” 

Then aunt Sarah herself turned to Mr. Sadler, 
and said, — 

“ Well, George, this is nice. Are you and Mary 
going to the hay-field with the boys and the chib 
dren after breakfast ? ” 

“ I would, if I were you, George,” said uncle 
Liph ; and Roxy wondered what the older people 
were all laughing at, but she said, — 

“•If he does, he’d better look out for the bumble- 
bees.” 

Cousin Mary was looking out of the window very 
hard, just then, as if she were expecting somebody 
to come. Perhaps she may have been ; for at that 
moment who should it be but Mrs. Wilbur, Kyle’s 
mother, with a great book in her arms I 

“ That must be Kyle’s prize dictionary ! ” ex- 
claimed Piney., 

“Yes,” said his. mother; “and she’s coming to 
show it to Keziah.” 

“Of course,” said uncle Liph. “She’s proud 
enough of it.” 


THE GRAND PRIZE, 


259 


“ Oh, dear ! I’d no idee you’d all be at breakfast 
50 late as this,” said Mrs. Wilbur, as she now stood 
still in the open door. “ Keziah ! This ere’s the 
book the committee gave to Kyle.” 

She certainly had no reason to complain of aunt 
Keziah, or of any of the rest, for the way they 
talked about that book and about her boy. It also 
looked as if Kyle’s mother could hardly have been 
more proud of him if he had made the dictionary, 
binding and all, instead of winning it for a declama- 
tion prize. 

It was of no use for Piney’s mother to bring out 
the prizes and presents which had come to him. 
They were numerous, to be sure, and they were 
nice ; but not one of them was as big as the dic- 
tionary. All of them put together would hardly 
have equalled the bulk of that one tremendous book, 
and Mrs. Wilbur plainly looked down upon them 
as of small account in comparison. 

“Now, Mrs. Wilbur,” said Piney at last, “we’re 
all going out to the hay-field to get stung. If Kyle 
wants his share of our bees, we’d like to have him 
come along.” 

“ I got a prize too,” began Roxy, for the third or 
fourth time ; but Mrs. Wilbur answered Piney, — 

“ I’ll send Kyle over, right away ; and I do want 
to say, Mrs. Hunter, for him, he thinks all the world 
of your Piney.” 


26 o 


AMONG THE LANES. 


So do we,” said Roxy. “ Guess we do. He was 
pretty near ’most drownded in the lake yesterday.” 

“ What an escape that was ! ” said Mrs. Wilbur. 
‘‘ I’m so thankful ! ” 

“And the oxen couldn’t run over Susie and me,” 
said Roxy, “’cause we climbed the fence.” , 

“ Seems to me Chub has been wonderfully silent,” 
remarked uncle Liph at that moment ; but the won- 
der was all gone when they turned to look at him. 

His place at the table, to make sure of his good 
behavior, was between his mother and aunt Keziah ; 
but for many minutes they had both been very busy 
thinking of something else. 

So had Chub ; for he had been thinking of the 
sugar-bowl, and there it was now in his lap. 

Whether he had been eating so very fast, or 
whether because of the sudden discovery of his 
misdoings, master Chub began at once to choke and 
cough, and then to cry ; and they all arose from the 
table before Roxy had a chance to tell Mrs. Wilbur 
any more about the cattle or her prizes. It was a 
good deal of a disappointment, but Roxy quickly 
got over it in the excitement of getting ready for 
the hay-field and the bees. 

Cousin Mary went ; and she persisted in wearing 
her new hat, with the arrow-hole in the top of it. 
She even refused to let aunt Keziah sew up the 
hole. 


BANISHED, 


261 

‘‘Of course I wouldn’t, if I were she,” said Bi. 
“That’s for ventilation. I’m going to have him 
shoot one like it through the top of every hat I 
get.” 

“ Hang your hat up out there, then,” said Piney. 
“ I’ll go for my bow and arrows.” 

“Not just now,” said Bi. “I can wait. Besides, 
I want George Sadler to fix all my hats. He can 
do it splendidly.” 

“ Now, Bi ! ” exclaimed Mary. 

“I won’t any more,” said Bi mischievously. “But 
then, Mary, not one of us had any notion he was 
going to shoot just when he did.” 

They were soon ready, and were all on their way 
through the barnyard and into the lane. Roxy and 
Susie looked sharply around them there for the 
“bad sheep.” They did not see him, and Piney 
told them he had been “banished.” 

“What does that mean ?” asked Susie. 

“ Why, Susie,” said Roxy, “ don’t you know ? 
He’s gone to be washed. Didn’t you know they 
washed sheep ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! I know all that. Roxy, there’s the 
Chinee hen.” 

“That’s another one. They’re all alike. Aunt 
Keziah says she’s going to set one of ’em on tur- 
key’s eggs.” 

“What for? ’ 


262 


AMONG THE LANES. 


“’Cause they’re so big, — ’most as big as turkeys. 
Then the young turkeys won’t be any smaller.” 

About half way up the lane they came to some 
bars in the fence ; and Piney let these down, so that 
they could all walk through. He led them across 
that field, and a little way down the hillside, and 
through some more bars ; and then they were in the 
hay-field. It was a large field, and almost flat ; and 
they could see, where the men were mowing, that 
the grass had been very high. 

“ Isn’t it a pity,” said Susie, “ to go and cut it all 
down } ” 

“If they didn’t,” said Roxy, “the barn wouldn’t 
have any hay in it, and the hens couldn’t hide their 
nests.” 

“ No,” said Piney ; “ and the cows wouldn’t have 
any supper in winter, and there wouldn’t be any 
milk, and Roxy herself wouldn’t have any supper to 
speak of.” 

“Yes, Susie,” said Roxy. “That’s what they 
make hay for. Don’t you know now ? But it 
spoils the grass.” 

That was certainly a fine field of hay. But 
one of the mowers made motions to them to stay 
where they were ; and then, when he came nearer, 
he shouted out to Piney that they had “just been 
clean driven away from that easterly swarth by the 
biggest nest of bumblebees you ever stirred up. 


AI^MS AND ARMOR. 263 

They’ll be all mad as sixty, and they’ll go for ye, 
sure ! ” 

“Hurrah, Bi ! ” shouted Piney. “There’s Kyle 
coming across the meadow. You do as I do.” 

Out came his handkerchief. He spread it over 
the back of his head, and down over his ears, and 
tucked it under his shirt -collar, and put his hat on 
hard. 

“They won’t get in through that,” he said, as he 
saw Bi and Mr. Sadler imitating him. Then he 
gathered a handful of long grass and weeds. 

“ Get a good brush like that,” he said to Bi. 
“ Don’t mind ’em at all, unless they ’light on a place 
where they can sting through.” 

Cousin Mary and aunt Keziah and the children 
remained where they were. They even took up 
rakes, and made believe “make hay;” but they 
could not help watching Piney and the rest as they 
went after that big nest of bees and honey. 

“Dear me!” said Mary. “I hope they won’t get 
stung.” 

“It won’t kill ’em if they do,” said aunt Keziah. 
“ I’ve broke up bumblebees’-nests myself. Time 
was when we got a regular bee-tree, out in the 
woods, every now and then.” 

“ With real bees and honey in it } ” 

“Yes, whole buckets-full of comb and honey. 
There isn’t any thing of that kind nowadays ; only 
bumblebees and yellow-jackets instead of ’em.” 


264 


AMONG THE LANES. 


The bee-hunters in that hay-field had no difficulty 
at all in finding out whereabouts the big nest was. 
Not only were the mowers able to point it out to 
them, at a safe distance, but both Kyle and Piney 
were familiar with the business they were on. More 
than one disturbed and angry bee made a dash at 
the party, as they drew nearer the place of danger; 
but Bi and Mr. Sadler followed the example of the 
two country boys, and did but brush their enemies 
away. The only trouble was, that, the insects did 
not seem to know any fear, and charged again and 
again, no matter how many times they were knocked 
into the grass. 

They’re tough customers,” said Bi ; but just 
then Piney shouted, — 

“ Here it is ! It’s a big one. Now, Kyle, you 
keep ’em off me while I take it out. They’re 
a-coming.” 

He stooped, as he spoke, and began to dig with 
his fingers in the grass at the side of a large round 
stone. Not every boy would have had the nerve to 
pry out that nest, and pick it up ; but Piney Hunter 
did, and all the while Kyle Wilbur was thrashing 
away like mad, in all directions, against a swarm of 
furious bumblebees. Bi and Mr. Sadler came run- 
ning up ; and they too were compelled to work with 
their bunches of grass and weeds, as if they were 
earning the largest kfnd of wages. 


THE BEES' REVENGE. 


265 


‘‘ Hadn’t we better run ? ” asked Bi. 

“ Run, then. That’s what I’m getting ready for. 
But keep on whipping. Some’ll go after us, but a 
good many’ll stay here. We won’t have such a 
crowd to fight.” 

It was good generalship, but a good numbei of 
the bees did follow them. Piney held the great 
wad of a nest in one hand, and fought with the 
other ; and somehow he and Kyle got off without a 
single sting. Perhaps that was because they ran 
along close together, and kept a good lookout for 
each other. If a bee alighted upon either of them, 
he was sure to be quickly brushed away. “ In union 
there is strength,” and in division there is weakness. 
Bi and Mr. Sadler separated as they ran. Mary 
saw them running, and anxiously exclaimed, — 

“ O aunt Keziah ! Look ! The bees are after 
them.” 

“ Of course they are. Look at Piney ! He’s got 
the nest.” 

Mr. Sadler should have been a wiser young man 
than to have run in the direction he did. To be 
sure, he whipped himself free of his assailants, 
with the exception of one fellow who managed to 
settle for a moment on his nose : but another of 
them dashed right on ahead of him ; and, while 
poor cousin Mary was thinking of almost any thing 
else than her own safety, she felt something dread- 
fully hot on her under lip. 


266 


AMONG THE LAKES, 


O aunt Keziah ! I’m stung.” 

“Are you, my dear? I’m sorry for that. But 
they never live long after they’ve lost their sting. 
Where did he sting you ? ” 

“ On my lip. Oh, dear ! ” 

It really pained her very much ; and Roxy said 
to Mr. Sadler, the moment he came near them, — 

“There, George, you brought a bee with you, 
and he’s stung cousin Mary on her lip. It’s 
awful ! ” 

So he seemed to think, for he at once took his 
hand away from his nose, and began to say so ; but 
aunt Keziah exclaimed, — 

Nonsense ! All that fuss about a bee-sting ! 
Put a little mud on it, and then let’s go and see 
the mowing.” 

In a few moments more, Piney came in with his 
prize. It was indeed a large nest, with several 
tablespoonfuls, more or less, of the most delicious 
honey any of them had ever tasted. So they all 
said ; but for all that, not long after they had 
tasted it, Mr. Sadler and cousin Mary began to 
walk away towards the bars. By that time, too, 
Piney and Bi and Kyle were having a tussle with 
another lot of bumblebees. 

Roxy remarked to Susie, — 

“I didn’t get but just the least mite of that 
honey. Did you ? I hope they’ll get some more.” 


PRIZE HONEY. 


267 


So do I,” said Susie. “ It’s the most beautiful 
honey ! It’s ever so much better than common 
bees’ honey.” 

“ That’s because bumblebees are bigger than 
honey-bees.” 

“ I s’pose they go all over, too, and find out where 
to get the best things to make it with.” 

Of course they do. Piney says a common 
bee’ll put up with ’most any kind of flowers. He 
didn’t get stung, nor Kyle didn’t either.” 

“ Guess I don’t want to,” said Susie. Let’s 
follow aunt Keziah, and keep away from where the 
boys are.” 

One look at the latter was enough to prove the 
soundness of that policy, for the boys were par- 
ticulary busy just then. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE HAY-RIDE. 

The fun of the hay-field, for Mary and Mr. Sad- 
ler, had been spoiled by two hot-tempered bumble- 
bees ; but that was no reason why any of the 
others should give it up. Susie remarked about it, 
however, — 

“ I don’t see why they should have stung Mary. 
She didn’t hurt ’em.” 

“Oh!” replied Roxy, “bumblebees don’t know 
any better, after the nest’s broke up.” 

“ But they didn’t touch you or me, or aunt 
Keziah.” 

“Well, the whole hay-field belongs to aunt Keziah, 
bees and all. Then your face and mine weren’t so 
high up. Mr. Sadler’s face and cousin Mary’s were 
right up where the bees were coming.” 

“ What made you call him George ? ” 

“ Oh 1 I didn’t think. Besides, it’s a prettier name 
than ‘ Mr. Sadler.’ ” 

“ Of course it is. Just look at Piney and Bi 

a68 


HAPPINESS. 269 

and Kyle! They ain’t thinking of any thing but 
bees.” 

That was about the truth, for the bees of the 
second nest had succeeded in getting a good sting 
at all three ; and Bi Hunter in particular felt more 
respect for insects than ever he had before. His 
handkerchief had slipped out of his neck, and a 
bumblebee had found that very place to work in. 
Piney and Kyle had each neglected “one of the 
places where they can sting right through ; ” but it 
was an old story to them, and they did not seem to 
mind it much. 

As for aunt Keziah, she was interested in seeing 
what a remarkably good crop of hay she was going 
to have ; and Roxy and Susie also began to turn 
their wise attention to it. They had brought their 
dolls with them, as a matter of course ; and it was 
capital fun to put them to sleep, and make houses 
for them in the low soft mounds of hay,, where it 
had been pitched into hay-cocks. They even ven- 
tured to kick the hay about in the windrows, where 
the men had raked it up ; and there was happiness 
in that. 

“ Isn’t hay nice 1 ” said Susie. 

“ Of course it is,” said Roxy. “ But they’re going 
to load a wagon pretty soon. Then we’ll have a 
splendid ride to the barn.” 

“ Oh, yes, a hay-ride ! ” shouted Susie. 


2/0 


AMONG THE LANES. 


A good deal of the hay in that field was already 
sufficiently cured to be carried home; and before 
noon a great wagon, drawn by two horses, with a 
wide wooden frame on top of the wagon-box, was 
slowly pulled along from one heap of hay to another. 

“ Let’s go and see them pitch it on,” said Roxy. 
‘‘It takes ever so much hay to load a wagon.” 

So it did ; and every time a man put his fork into 
a hay-cock, and lifted a great mass of it to pitch it 
upon the wagon, he seemed to let loose a fragrant 
puff of what Roxy called “hay smell.” 

“ How strong they are ! ” said Susie. “ And how 
nice it does smell ! ” 

“They have to be stronger as soon as it gets 
piled up high,” said Roxy. “Oh, how fast they 
work ! ” 

So they did, indeed ; for aunt Keziah was there 
looking at them, and she knew just how long it 
should take to load a wagon like that with hay, with 
two men to pitch and one on top to spread it around 
neatly after it got there. 

Roxy remarked to Susie, as to that, — 

“ Piney says that to have aunt Keziah looking on 
anywhere is just as good as hiring another man.” 

Piney and his two friends were getting pretty 
warm over their fun by this time ; and Bi seemed 
to be troubled by a queer feeling, that to rob quite 
so many bees was not exactly right. 


STINGING HIS LANDLADY. 


271 


“The bees own the nests,” he said to himself, 
“ and so it’s their honey ; ” but he had to give up 
making Kyle and Piney see it that way. Kyle told 
him, — 

“ The bees own the honey till haying-time, Bi : 
then it’s ours. Why, don’t you see how it is ? 
Even if they sting a feller, the sting’s his then, and 
they have to leave it in him.” 

Bi felt of the back of his neck where a hot lump 
was growing, and he had little pity in his heart for 
at least one bee. 

“ I say, boys ! ” he exclaimed, as he looked across 
the field, “they’ve loaded that wagon, and they’re 
lifting the children on it for a ride. Just hear ’em 
scream ! S’pose we go and ride with ’em.” 

“All right,” said Piney. “We’ll go; but who did 
that last yell ? ” 

It had not come from the lips of either Roxy or 
Susie, and the next thing they saw was aunt Keziah 
running across towards them from where she had 
been standing. She was whipping her head frantic- 
ally with hei apron. 

“ There’s a bee after her ! ” said Kyle. 

“ That’s too bad,” said Bi. 

Piney was already on a run to aunt Keziah’s 
assistance; but before he reached her she stopped, 
stood still a moment, ' and then walked slowly and 
dignifiedly back towards the hay-wagon. 


272 


AMONG THE LANES, 


‘‘What is the matter, aunt Keziah ? ” asked Roxy, 
from the top of the load. “ Did they try to lift you 
up ? ” 

She and Susie had enjoyed the excitement of 
being lifted, but had screamed pretty loudly, never- 
theless. 

“Did he sting you.?” shouted Piney, at the same 
moment. 

“ Sting .? ” said aunt Keziah. “ What do I care for 
a bee-sting.? I’m going back to the house, along 
with this load. I’ve been fooling my time away 
here long enough.” 

Somehow or other, though, her right hand would 
go up to her ear, every now and then, for all the 
world as if something were smarting there and 
needed rubbing. 

“Come on, boys,” shouted Piney. “Let’s climb 
up. They’re putting on the binder.” 

“What’s that for.?” asked Bi, as a long, heavy 
pole was laid along the middle of the high-piled 
load of hay, and tied down hard at each end with 
ropes and a chain. 

“ That .? Why, that’s the binder. It holds the 
hay on when we’re going down hill. It would slide 
over the horses if it wasn’t for that, and all of us’d 
go with it.” 

Bi put his hand on the binder, and determined not 
to slide. So did Roxy and Susie, but Kyle and 


SCREAMING FUN. 


m 


Piney seemed to feel altogether safe and at home 
on a load of hay. 

‘‘Roxy,” asked Susie, “do you think aunt Keziah 
was really stung } ” 

“ She didn’t say she was.” 

“But she’s feeling of her ear.” 

“Well, I don’t know. Maybe there were some 
other people’s bumblebees over here with ours.” 

The wagon was soon in motion, and it tilted this 
way and that way over the rough places of the field 
in a style that was more than a little exciting. 

How those two girls did hold on to their brothers ! 

“ Does hay ever upset } ” asked Susie. 

“ Does it, Piney ? ” said Bi. 

“ Oh, yes ! sometimes. But not on a straight, 
easy road like this. We’re all safe enough. Hold 
on tight when you’re going down the lane ; that’s 
all.” 

Roxy and Susie screamed with delight and fear, 
as the load of hay climbed the ascent to the bars 
leading into the lane. Then they screamed and 
laughed still louder as it rolled lumberingly down 
to the barnyard. Right in front of the wide-open 
barn-doors, the horses stopped. 

“I see now,” said Bi, “ why barn-doors are made 
so high. Why, the load can’t but just get in ! ” 

“That’s so,” said Piney. “We must all get down, 
or we’ll be scraped off.” 


274 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


“ ’Twon’t be the easiest thing ” — 

‘‘ Slip down along the binder to the back end, Bi. 
I’ll let the girls down to you.” 

Bi did so, and Roxy and Susie clambered close 
behind him. They were trembling a little, over 
the steep prospect before them ; but Roxy said 
bravely, — 

‘‘Piney knows, Susie. It’s awful high, but we’ll 
get down.” 

Aunt Keziah was right there, with her hand on 
her ear, telling one of the farm-hands, a very tall 
and strong young man, to — 

“ Help down those children, now, so they won’t 
break their blessed little necks.” 

Could she possibly have been angry at that 
bumblebee for stinging her.^ She would not have 
said so for any thing ; but she was evidently rasp- 
ish, and in something of a hurry to get to the 
house. 

Bi took hold of Roxy’s hand, and let her slip, 
slip, slip, down the smooth surface ot the hay, 
until the man below could reach up and touch her. 
Then he let go ; and just as she was screaming, “ O 
aunt Keziah ! ” she was caught by a pair of strong 
brown hands, and was landed safely on the ground. 

“Come, Susie,” she said at once. “Come right 
along. Don’t be scared. It just isn’t any thing 
at all.” 


MUD, 


275 


Susie thought differently, but she took Bi’s hand, 
and began to slide; and then, almost before she 
was ready for it, she was standing beside her cousin. 
Kyle Wilbur was there too, for he had swung him- 
self down from the forward end of the wagon. It 
was easy enough for a pair of active boys, like 
Piney and Bi, to find their way to the ground with- 
out help. They would have scorned asking any ; 
but there was a thought in Bi’s mind, when he was 
yet sticking to the binder, that ladders were a great 
invention. 

While all these things had been going on, how- 
ever, Mr. Sadler and cousin Mary had long since 
reached the farmhouse. 

‘^George,” said Mary, as they went through the 
bars into the barnyard, ‘‘does your nose pain you 
much ? ” 

“Don’t mention it!” he exclaimed. “Only to 
think, though, how your lip must hurt ! ” 

“ T don’t mind that at all, but it’s beginning to 
swell.” 

“ So is my nose.” 

“ Aunt Keziah said that we were to put on some 
mud.” 

“ I’ve heard that that is good. We can get some 
at the lake-shore.” 

So they hurried along to the landing-place, and 
there they had no difficulty in stirring up some 


276 


AMONG THE LANES, 


soft clay that made the best of mud for a bee- 
sting. 

Cousin Mary was compelled to put it on first ; 
and Mr. Sadler laughed, in spite of the pain in his 
nose, when he saw the change made in her very 
pretty face by that patch of mud just below her 
mouth. Then it was her turn to laugh ; for he 
clapped over his own hurt a piece of wet clay as 
large as half a peach, and his nose was not naturally 
a small one. 

“There’s always plenty of fun to be had in the 
country,” he said, “if you only know where to 
find it.” 

“ We have found a little more than we intended, 
I think, this morning,” said Mary. “ Now we’d 
better go to the house.” 

They carried the materials for any amount of fun 
with them when they went. The moment they 
walked in, uncle Liph burst into a roar of laughter. 
Then grandfather Hunter looked at them, an:’’ he 
laughed, and so did aunt Sarah and Piney’s mother; 
and then Chub dropped his doll, and shouted, — 

“O Mary! Wash your face right away. It’s 
dirty.” 

So it seemed to be ; but Chub took a look at Mr. 
Sadler also, and asked him, with a puzzled air, — 

“ Where did you tumble down ? ” 

Chub’s own nose had more than once been 


AN IMPROVEMENT, 


277 


brought into the house by him, in sorrow and 
lamentation, with the effects of a tumble in the 
mud yet visible upon it. 

“ We’ve been stung by bees ! ” exclaimed Mary. 
“The boys were breaking up a nest.” 

“ Chub is right, then,” said Piney’s mother. 
“ Wash your face, and I’ll get some spirits of harts- 
horn It’s better than mud.” 

“ I think it will look better, too,” remarked aunt 
Sarah. 

The remedy was brought in a twinkling, the nose 
and the lip were washed, and then neither Maiy 
nor Mr. Sadler seemed sorry to have an excuse for 
spending the rest of that morning in the house. 

“Haying is capital fun,” said uncle Liph; “but 
when there is too much help from bumblebees. I’d 
rather turn over my share to the boys.” 

“They were wild over it,” said Mary. “Why, 
they’re at it yet.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


THE MATCH GAME. 

Aunt Keziah Merrill did not go back to the 
hay-field that day. None of the older people went ; 
and Roxy and Susie, even, were prevailed upon to 
stay and play in the neighborhood of the house. 

Guess there won’t be any bumblebees about 
here to-day,” said Roxy. 

“ Why won’t there ^ ” asked Susie. 

Oh ! because they’ll all want to be at home, in 
the hay-field, trying to take care of their honey.” 

“And their little bees ? ” 

“There ain’t any little bees. They’re all big 
enough to sting.” 

“ Don’t they ever have any baby bees } ” 

“Nobody ever saw any, I guess.” 

“ We never have any kind of bees in the city.” ' 

“You mean flying-bees. Don’t you have other 
kinds of bees ? ” 

“ Besides stinging-bees ? ” 

“Yes. Don’t you ever have any sewing-bees ? ” 
278 


MAJ\ry BEES. 279 

‘‘ Sewing-bees ! exclaimed Susie. “ Do they 
sew with their stings } ” 

“ Why, Susie ! It’s where all the folks come, and 
bring their own sewing-needles.” 

** Oh ! that’s it, is it ? ” 

‘‘Yes,” said Roxy. “It takes a good many peo- 
ple to make a sewing-bee. We had one at our 
house last winter. Everybody comes to a sewing- 
bee. They come to sew for the heathen, and to 
eat cake.” 

“ And they work like bees } ” 

“ Guess they do. Aunt Keziah says they eat as 
if they’d been living in the poorhouse.” 

“ The poorhouse } What’s that } ” 

“Piney says Hawknose John told him it was 
white man’s reservation.” 

Susie had to ask aunt Sarah about it, before she 
could understand what a poorhouse was. Aunt 
Keziah told her she was too busy to answer silly 
questions. 

“ It’s her ear,” explained Roxy afterwards. “ It’s 
more’n twice as big as her other ear.” 

“ Yes,” said Susie. “ Isn’t it dreadful ? ” 

“ It’s awful dreadful. Piney says that’s where 
the hills come from.” 

“ The hills, Roxy ? ” 

“All the little hills. He says they’re just places 
where the country’s been stung by a big bumble* 
bee.” 


28 o 


AMONG THE LANES. 


I don’t believe it.” 

“ Piney doesn’t either.” 

“ Then he shouldn’t say so,” said Susie. 

When the boys came back from the hay-field, 
they were hot and tired, and that was a quiet even- 
ing at the farmhouse. Almost the entire household 
seemed willing to go to bed early ; and Bi, at least, 
was a late riser next morning. He managed to get 
to the breakfast-table just as Piney returned from 
driving his cows to pasture. 

The table was pretty full ; and aunt Keziah sat in 
her usual place, wearing a frilled cap that covered 
both her ears. 

Mother ! ” suddenly exclaimed Roxy. “ We 
must wait for Mr. Sadler : he isn’t down.” 

“That’s so,” said Piney. “Guess he did too 
much haying yesterday.” 

“He?” said uncle Liph. “He was up before 
any of you. He had to hurry back to the city 
on business. He told me to say good-by to all of 
you, for him.” 

There was a general expression of surprise at so 
sudden and unexpected a flitting ; but the older peo- 
ple did not seem half so much astonished as were 
the younger. It was curious, however, how heartily 
they laughed when Roxy remarked, a little later, — 

“Cousin Mary, your lip isn’t swelled a bit this* 
morning. I should think it would be awful.” 


J\r£PF LAND. 


281 


“ That’ll do very well,” said grandfather Hunter ; 
and Mary exclaimed, — 

“ O Roxy ! ” 

There was a larger mail than usual that day ; and 
when uncle Liph finished reading his letters, he 
arose from his chair, drew a long breath, and 
said, — 

“ There ! I’m glad Sadler went when he did. 
Aunt Keziah, I’m afraid we’ll have to cut our visit 
short a little.” 

“ Bad news 1 Business } ” 

“ Business, but not bad. We can stay a few 
days ; then we must stay in the city for a fort- 
night or so, and then we can go to the seashore.” 

There was enough to talk about now; but it all 
wound up, so far as the boys were concerned, with 
uncle Liph’s decision, — 

Bi needn’t go when I do. We can talk about it 
again.” 

“Hurrah for that!” shouted Piney. *‘Bi, we’ll 
have a good time. — Uncle Liph, I’m going to 
teach him how to plough, — going to begin to- 
morrow.” 

So he’ll know how before I go away } ” 

‘‘Well, I’ll tell you how it is. There’s a piece 
of land over by the woods, beyond the lake, that 
never was ploughed in the world. Aunt Keziah 
had the trees cut off years and years ago ; and she 


282 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


says it’s ready to break up now, so she can put 
wheat on it next fall.” 

“Has she hired you and Bi to plough it for 
her } ” 

“ Not exactly ; but all the while she talked about 
it, I thought what fun it would be for Bi to see 
that thing ploughed. It’s by the woods, you know. 
Best kind of a picnic.” 

“ I’ll go ! ” exclaimed Roxy. “ So’ll Susie. 
Cousin Mary can go too, now George is gone.” 

“ It won’t be done till day after to-morrow,” said 
aunt Keziah suddenly. “ There’s only ten acres of 
it. It’s good land, but there’s work on it after it’s 
broke up. I don’t see what fun there’d be in 
lookin’ on ; but they could picnic all over the woods, 
as much as they wanted to.” 

There was not much more to be said just then; 
and when Bi and Piney got out of the house, they 
stood and looked at one another for a moment. 

“Bi,” said Piney, “did you ever see a stupider 
day than this is .? ” 

“ It’s kind o’ stupid.” 

“ Do you want to go fishing?” 

“ No, I don’t care to fish.” 

“We can have a swim.” 

“ I don’t feel like swimming.” 

“ We did too much running yesterday, — too 
many bees. It’s the stupidest kind of a day.” 


A STUPID DAY. 283 

Just then they heard a shrill voice at the gate, 
shouting, — 

“ Boys, Tve got something for ye. Biggest 
kind ! ” 

Hullo, Kyle ! Is that you } 

‘‘ You and Bi’ll be wanted at the village to-morrer. 
Match game of base-ball. Country boys against 
village boys, and draw cuts for Bi ’cause he’s a 
city boy.” 

That was almost enough to wake them up, but 
somehow it did not excite them particularly. The 
game had to be talked about, but it seemed too 
much like work. There would be running in it, 
and doing something ; and all they cared to do just 
then was just what they and Kyle did. They all 
got into the old scow, and raised the sail, and found 
there was just enough of lazy wind stirring to carry 
them gently away down the lake, while they lay 
around in the boat without stirring hand or foot. 

A swim and some supper helped use up the day ; 
and the evening had another sail in it, with cousin 
Mary and aunt Sarah and Piney’s mother in the 
boat. The water was smooth, and the moonlight 
was all that could be asked for ; but nothing could 
take away the solemn fact that some days in the 
country will be stupid, in spite of any thing any- 
body can do. 

Even cousin Mary was uncommonly silent ; and, 


284 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


if the whole truth were known, the only people in 
that farmhouse who lay awake and talked after they 
went to bed, that night, were Roxy and Susie. 
They did, until at last Roxy asked, ‘‘ Susie, did you 
speak ? ” and, while she listened for Susie to answer, 
her own eyelids came slowly together ; and when 
they opened again it was because the morning sun 
was looking in at the window, and next day had come. 

‘‘ There, Piney ! ” exclaimed Bi, at about that 
moment, as he sprang out of bed, ‘‘ I’m ready to 
go for the cows with you this time.” 

-‘‘You ain’t so stiff as you were yesterday, are 
you .? ” 

“ I should say I wasn’t.” 

“ Could you play ball ? ” 

“I guess I can; but I don’t like the notion of 
being drawn cuts for.” 

“We’ll win you for our side, see’f we don’t.” 

Piney was a little too sure about that. Within 
an hour after breakfast there were knots of boys, 
of all sizes, all over the green ; and he and Bi were 
among them. So were a good many fellows Bi 
knew, and some he had never seen ; and when the 
choosing began for the game, he saw that he was 
looked upon as a sort of prize. He even heard one 
boy propose to “put him in a hat;” and another, 
to “toss him up, and see which side he’ll come 
down on.” 


THE PRIZE BOY, 28$ 

No offence was meant; and he good-naturedly 
consented, as he called it, “ to be raffled for.” 

Piney himself drew the straw for his side, out of 
a lot that were shaken up in an empty tomato-can. 

‘‘Pve got a good one, Bi! ” he shouted. ‘‘There 
weren’t many that were longer than that.” 

It was a respectable straw, to be sure ; but the 
village boy who drew next instantly exclaimed, — 

“Measure! Measure! Mine’s as long as yours 
is, Piney Hunter.” 

The two straws were held up, side by side, for a 
moment ; and then there was another shout, — 

“ Half an inch ! Half an inch ! ” 

“Yes, Piney,” said Kyle Wilbur dolefully, 
“they’ve won him. Why didn’t you pull a longer 
straw ? Lost the game by half an inch. It’s 
awful ! ” 

“ We haven’t lost it yet,” said Piney. “ Come on, 
boys : we’ll show ’em. We can afford to let ’em 
have some chance.” 

It was a. hot day, and playing ball was hard work. 
Even Kyle Wilbur’s face grew red in a little while, 
and Piney’s was a sight to see. Bi did his duty by 
the side he was on, but it was well for them that 
they had him. It was a good deal as Kyle re- 
marked, — 

“ He’s all the chance they’ve got.” 

The village people came out to the edges of the 


286 


AMONG THE LANES. 


green to watch that game; and farmers halted in 
their wagons, and looked on ; and it looked, for ever 
so long, like ‘‘ an even thing,’* There was cheering 
over good runs and good hits, and fun over failures 
of all sorts; but the end came at last, and just 
about dinner-time Kyle Wilbur sat down upon the 
grass, exclaiming, — 

‘‘Just as I told you, Piney. We’re busted. Bi 
did it for us.” 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


THE BATTLE-GROUND. 

Kyle Wilbur had been invited to the ptcnic, as 
a matter of course ; and he was on hand promptly 
the next morning. His mother came with him, as 
she said, — 

“To ask Keziah Merrill what on earth put it into 
her head to break up sech a piece of land as that 
in dry weather.” 

It was fine weather for a day in the woods, what- 
ever it was for any thing else. The horses, and 
ploughs and ploughmen had all gone to their work 
before that time. They had all gone by a round- 
about way, through the lane and the fields ; but the 
people who were to have the good time,, without 
the hard work, went by water. They made about 
as good a boat-load as it was well for the old scow 
to undertake; for, when all were on board, there 
were aunt Keziah and Mary, and Roxy, Susie, and 
Chub, besides the boys, the dolls, and the baskets 
of luncheon. Piney had to row the boat, for the 

287 


288 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


wind was dead against them. He seemed to have 
something on his mind, and it came out as they 
drew near the shore. 

‘‘There’s where I found my arrowhead,” he said 
to Mary, — “ right there in the woods. Maybe I’ll 
find another to-day.” 

“Why.?” 

“ Well, there was a battle with the Indians once, 
right over here somewhere. Hawknose John says 
the worst of it was on the very spot where they’re 
going to do the ploughing.” 

“ A battle ? ” shouted Bi. “ Which side won 

it .? ” 

“Nobody knows, exactly.” 

“ Were the white men defeated .? ” 

“Aunt Keziah says both sides were whipped, 
and ran away* Her grandfather Merrill was a boy 
then.” 

“ Was he in the fight .? ” asked Bi. 

That stirred up aunt Keziah, and she said, — 

“Why, Bi Hunter! Didn’t you know.? Boys 
could shoot in them days. They say he used to 
tell that he never ran so fast in all his life, and no- 
body was after him neither. All the Indians were 
running t’other way.” 

It was warm walking up the hill, through the 
woods, after they got ashore. Cousin Mary and 
the children were glad to sit down in the shade for 


TREASURE TROVE. 289 

a little; but aunt Keziah was there for business, 
and she and the boys went on into the field. 

“Piney,” shouted one of the ploughmen, “you 
and your cousin’d better go back and foller up that 
furrer. We’ve been a-turnin’ up all sorts of things. 
Hunt for ’em.” 

“ Hurrah ! ” shouted Piney. “ Hawknose John 
was right. We’ve struck the right place.” 

“The battle-field.?” said Bi, almost breathlessly. 

“ Come on. We’ll find something. It was all 
covered with big trees then, for both sides to hide 
behind ; and they peppered each other ever so 
long.” 

“ How my father would like to be here ! ” said Bi. 
“ It’s what he cares more for than most any thing 
else.” 

Kyle followed in silence, and the three went 
back to the place where the ploughing began. 
They walked along in the deep furrows slowly, 
stooping to examine every stick and stone. They 
had not gone far before Bi sprang up, exclaiming, — 

“ Hullo, Piney ! What’s this .? ” 

“ It’s as big as a dollar.” 

“It isn’t any kind of money. It’s bigger’n a 
dollar.” 

“Rusted green,” said Kyle. “Must be copper, 
or brass.” 

“ Why, Bi,” said Piney, as he took it in his hand, 


290 


AMONG THE LANES. 


and turned it over. “I know what that is. They 
all wore ’em. It’s a medal.” 

‘'Father’ll know all about it, or grandfather.” 

“ It’s a big find, anyhow. Some chief had it on, 
and got killed. I haven’t found a thing.” 

Piney’s eager eyes were already searching the 
furrow again, and it was hardly a minute before his 
turn came. 

“ Hurrah, boys ! Here’s an old gun-barrel bent 
half double, and rusted all up. It’s an old flint- 
lock. I wonder if some of our fellows bent it over 
a redskin’s head.” 

“ Mebbe so,” said Kyle ; “but it spiled the gun.” 

The fever of it grew hot as they looked at that 
used-up weapon, and thought of what it might have 
been used for. On they went, till Piney once more 
sang out, — 

“ Another arrowhead, Bi ! ” 

“ It’s bigger’n the one you found in the woods,” 
began Kyle ; but he made a jump forward, and the 
next instant they heard him exclaim, — 

“ Well, now ! If I haven’t found a war-club ! 
’Tisn’t rotted a bit neither.” 

“ Kyle ! ” said Piney. “ What if I’d had that to 
speak my piece with ! ” 

It was a curious thing, when they came to exam- 
ine it, — a thick strong piece of what looked like 
iron-wood about three feet long ; and at one end of 


A GROIVING CLUB, 


291 


it was a heavy piece of flint, shaped like a very long 
egg, that went right through the wood and fitted 
tightly. 

“It looks for all the world as if it grew there,’* 
said Bi. “The wood is close around it.” 

“ So it did,” said Piney. “ The stone didn’t 
grow, but the wood did. Hawknose John told me. 
They made a split through a young sapling, and 
put the stone through, and tied it hard above and 
below ; and then the tree grew right on all the 
same, and held it tighter and tighter.” 

“Took a long time to get a club that way,” 
said Bi. 

“And this One had to have a big Indian to do 
much with it,” remarked Kyle. “ Bi, do you s’pose 
your father’d let me give it to him 1 ” 

“ He’d be glad enough. There isn’t such another 
club in his collection.” 

“Well, you see, I fetched over the stone hatchet 
this morning for him. I stuck it in the corner by 
the gate. This might as well go with it.” 

Kyle spoke very modestly, and seemed quite 
encouraged by Bi’s assurances. 

“All right, if he’ll take ’em,” he said at last. 
“Now let’s pitch in, and find something else.” 

If they had been a lot of miners hunting for 
gold, they could hardly have gone over that ground 
more faithfully. Roxy and Susie came to help 


292 


AMONG THE LANES. 


them ; while aunt Keziah sat under a tree, and told 
Mary all she had ever heard about the battle. 

Roxy searched away ahead of the boys, and was 
quite disappointed because she did not find “ some- 
thing awful.” It troubled her a good deal, too, 
when Piney found another arrowhead on some 
ground she had walked over. Suddenly she made 
a dash forward. 

“ Piney ! Piney ! Pve got it ! Isn’t this a 
battle.?” 

“ That ? Why, Roxy, that’s an old sheep’s head. 
It’s a bone ” 

bone.?” said Bi. “Well, we haven’t found 
any other bones.” 

“No,” said Piney. “All the men that ran away 
carried their bones with ’em. This bone belonged 
to a sheep. Guess he wasn’t in that fight.” 

“Couldn’t the Indians have made a battle of 
him .? ” asked Roxy. 

There was a good deal of fun made over her idea 
of war, and the part a very “bad sheep” might 
take in a fight with red Indians; but that was the 
only bone they found, although they searched till 
they were weary. 

On the whole, the hunt for curiosities was pretty 
successful; but they were all ready to give it up 
when Mary called them to come to luncheon. 

Chub had done some hunting on his own account, 


THE SPOILS OF WAR, 


293 


with Mary to keep him from straying ; and he had 
seen a squirrel and a chipmunk. Nothing would 
satisfy the three boys but building a fire, without 
any thing to cook in it ; and after that the picnic 
was a lazy sort of a ramble. Still Bi saw squirrels, 
and talked of hunting them ; and on his way home 
he saw his first woodchuck. And aunt Keziah was 
well pleased with her ploughing. It was a nice, 
quiet, pleasant kind of a time, and not one of them 
all dreamed what its consequences might be. 

It was the middle of the afternoon, to the sur- 
prise of all of the party, when the boat again 
reached the landing. Then there was a sort of 
procession to the house, and Kyle ran around to 
the gate for his stone hatchet. He brought it back 
to the side door, and there were grandfather Hunter 
and uncle Liph eagerly examining the curiosities. 
Kyle had had no idea they would really care for 
them. 

“What!” uncle Liph was just saying. “Six 
new arrowheads.? Why, this one’s big enough for 
a spearhead. That war-club is a noble one.” 

“Here’s the hatchet, sir,” said Kyle, holding it 
out. 

“ Hatchet .? That’s so,” said grandfather. “ Liph, 
it’s a rare specimen. Capital ! ” 

Kyle colored with delight, but said not a word ; 
and Piney came to help him with, — 


294 


AMONG THE LAKES, 


Why, unde Liph, that and the club are Kyle’s 
present to you. Bi said you’d take ’em.” 

‘‘ Take ’em 1 ” said uncle Liph. ‘‘Now, Kyle, my 
boy, I thank you ever so much” — He stopped 
short, and for nearly half a minute he seemed to 
be thinking what to do about it. Then he held out 
his hand to Kyle, and said, — 

“Kyle Wilbur, how would you like to visit the 
city } ” 

“Like it.? Well, sir, — yes, sir, — so I would. I 
guess so. I was never there in my life, sir.” 

“Well, now, Kyle, I’m going home next Monday; 
and the next Monday after that Bi’s coming too, 
and Piney’s to come with him for a visit. I’d be 
glad to have you come along with them. We’ll see 
that you have a good time if you do.” 

Poor Kyle ! It was almost too much for him, and 
he hardly knew what to say. It sounded to him a 
good deal like a promise of a trip into fairy-land. 
He blushed and stammered, and gave it up ; and 
uncle Liph said, — 

“Now, Kyle, you go home, and ask your mother. 
Tell her I’ll furnish tickets to go and come, and I’ll 
take care of you while you’re there. Show you all 
my curiosities. Tell her you’ll see the houses and 
the streets, and the ships in the harbor, and the 
forts and the ocean, and I’ll send you back to her 
safe and sound.” 


FAIRY-LAND AHEAD. 


295 


Kyle’s eyes seemed to be growing bigger all the 
time, but he was not the only astonished boy. 
That had been the first thing Piney himself had 
heard about his visit to the city. It had been 
planned without consulting him ; and now aunt 
Keziah exclaimed, — 

“Do look at that boy! Piney, you’re not going 
to burst, are you } ” 

“I’d like to do something. — Mother, are you 
going to let us go ^ ” 

“Yes, my son, — both of you. Roxy’s to visit 
Susie.” 

“ O Chub I ” shouted Roxy, as she hugged her 
fat little brother. “ Did you hear that ? I’m going 
to the city. It’s where the oshung is ; and Piney’s 
going too, and so is Kyle Wilbur ; and it’ll scare 
him half to death.” 

“ I’ll go and ask my mother,” said Kyle slowly, 
as he now began to edge away. “ I guess she’ll let 
me go. It’s only for a week, and Bill Young can 
go after my cows while I’m gone.” 

“I’ll see her about it, tell her,” said aunt Keziah, 
and he was out of the gate in a moment. There 
was no room for doubt as to what Mrs. Wilbur 
would say to a matter like that, so far as consent- 
ing went ; but she may have been partly wrong, as 
well as partly right, when she said to Kyle’s 
father, — 


296 


AMONG THE LANES. 


“That’s what comes of his speakin’ so well at 
the exhibition. That there flint thing hadn’t any 
thing to do with it, nor the club either. What dc 
city people keer for that kind of trash 1 Go ? Of 
course he’s to go, and I’ll get him ready.” 


CHAPTER XXX. 

THE LAST WEEK IN THE COUNTRY. 

Grandfather and uncle Liph, and aunt Sarah 
and cousin Mary, all set out for the city on the 
following Monday ; and there was a great deal of 
excitement to be had in seeing them go. Roxy’s 
last instructions to Mary were, — 

If you see Mr. Sadler, don’t forget to tell him 
I’m coming.” 

Somehow or other, however, the moment the 
travellers were out of sight, it seemed as if the 
whole country, farmhouse, lakes, and all, had under- 
gone a sort of change. It did not come to Bi and 
Susie, and some of the older people, as it did 
to the other boys and Roxy; but Kyle Wilbur’s 
first remark, after the carryall vanished beyond 
the* turn in the road, expressed his feelings ex- 
actly : — 

“ I say, Piney, what on earth are we fellers going 
to do with this here week ” 

‘‘We’ve just got to,” said Piney; and precisely 

297 


298 


AMONG THE LANES. 


what he meant by it, neither he nor anybody else 
could have guessed. 

That afternoon they all went in swimming, and 
then Bi went with them after the cows ; but he 
found himself answering questions about the city 
until, as he said, — 

“Tell you what it is, boys, if you keep on, you’ll 
know twice as much as I do. You’d better wait till 
you get there.” 

“ Hope it won’t run away before that,” said Kyle. 
“It kind o’ seems to me as if there was some sort 
of humbug about it.” 

“ It’ll all be there,” said Bi, and then he and 
Piney went to the house for supper ; but aunt 
Keziah took note, afterwards, that Piney did not 
win a single game of chess that evening. His 
main ambition, during the days that followed, was 
to make things pleasant for Bi. He had plenty of 
help, and succeeded capitally. As for Susie, she 
had only too much care taken of her happiness, and 
went to bed tired out every night. She and Roxy 
had the lake-shore mainly to themselves ; for the 
boys were rarely visible, except at or near meal- 
times, and not always then. 

As for Mrs. Wilbur, hardly had she given her 
consent to the proposed journey, before she began 
to see tribulation before her. As to Kyle himself, 
he could have his hair cut by the village barber, 


A GREAT TRIAL, 


299 


and he could be lectured on the subject of behavior 
whenever he came within hearing ; but then, there 
was his clothing. What was good enough for him 
or any other boy to wear in and about Parable 
Centre might not be as well adapted to the great 
city, or to a visit among stylish people. The Wil- 
burs were prosperous farmers, and had plenty of 
what is called “a good opinion of themselves;” but 
the proper time for dressing up Kyle with any pains 
had never arrived before. It was a great problem ; 
and every part and parcel of it had to be taken 
over and submitted, confidentially and anxiously, 
to aunt Keziah. Mrs. Wilbur went over to the 
house again and again, and obtained a great deal 
of help and comfort ; but some of both came in 
aunt Keziah’s own way. It was not in Mrs. 
Wilbur’s last visit, by any means, that she was 
told, — 

“Overcoat.^ I’d say so! Yes; and he’d better 
take his skates too, so’s to be all ready if there 
should come a summer freeze.” 

“Now, Keziah, jest don’t. It’s a tryin’ piece of 
business. I do want him to appear well, and he’s 
never travelled before.” 

“ He’ll know more’n he does now, before he gets 
back, or I’m mistaken.” 

“ Of course he will. But I’m some troubled 
about his ever getting there. Them three boys. 


300 


AMONG THE LAKES. 


and two bits of girls, a-goin* all that distance alone ! 
Think of it, Keziah ! It’s a resk.” 

‘‘Alone? Humph! The boys might. I’d trust 
Piney to take care of Bi and Kyle. I’m going 
along myself, to keep track of Roxy and Susie.” 

“ You be ? I declare ! I didn’t know that. And 
you can keep an eye on Kyle.” 

“When he’s in sight, I can. Better let him shift 
for himself a little.” 

“But, Keziah, I’m troubled some about his eat- 
ing.” 

“ Kyle’s eating ? ” 

“He’s getting on sech an awful appetite. I’m 
ashamed of him.” 

“I’ll see’t he gets enough. They set a good 
table at Liph Hunter’s. He won’t starve.” 

“’Tisn’t that, Keziah: it’s his manners. You 
mustn’t let him make a pig of himself.” 

* “ Don’t you worry ’bout that. Let him eat. 
Mebbe, if you do, he’ll weigh something some day. 
I’d like to see him flesh up.” 

“ Now, Keziah Merrill, do you mean to say I 
don’t give that boy enough to eat ? ” 

“No, I don’t. All I mean is, that travelling is 
hungry business, and you mustn’t stint him.” 

“I won’t, then. You keep an eye on him though. 
I’m jest awful glad you’re a-goin’ along.” 

Kyle himself pretended to take but a moderate 


PINEY DID IT. 


301 


interest in the questions which troubled his mother ; 
but she should have seen him in his own room, 
once or twice, trying different ways of tying his 
necktie, and brushing his hair. She would then 
have better understood the state of his mind. 

Roxy’s mother would not, at any hour of the 
day or night, have been able to detect in her a 
single symptom of anxiety of any kind. She was 
going, and that was quite enough for her ; and in 
the mean time she and Susie had their hands more 
than full. They sometimes came into the house in 
such a condition of hair and faces and clothing as 
to fill other people’s hands, also, with a job of 
setting them ‘^to rights.” 

If Piney had any problems on his mind, he solved 
them in his own way. He found a hat in the vil- 
lage precisely like Bi’s own ; and before Saturday 
night he had so attended to his affairs that he felt 
entirely safe and easy. When he and Bi walked 
off together, on Sunday morning, towards the vil- 
lage, aunt Keziah remarked to his mother, — 

“ Elizabeth, do you see that ? ” 

“ See what, Keziah } ” 

‘‘ Why, Piney. He’s been at work so they sha^n’t 
know he’s from the country. He’s done it too.” 

There was a good deal of partiality in that decis- 
ion of aunt Keziah’s, and his mother’s opinion was 
also a little one-sided ; but Bi’s criticism could be 


302 


AMONG THE LANES. 


more safely trusted. He said to himself, as they 
walked along, — 

‘‘ Green } Well, yes, of course : he does look a 
little green. Anybody’ll know he doesn’t belong 
in the city, but that’s about all they’ll be able to 
say.” 

Sunday was a long day ; and none of the young 
people got to sleep as soon as usual, although they 
all were sent to bed early. There was no need 
whatever to call one of them in the morning, for 
they were all up and dressed in ample season. 
Piney insisted on driving his cows to pasture, but 
there was just a little spice of hypocrisy in the 
effort he was making to seem to take things coolly. 
Kyle Wilbur came over just after breakfast to say 
that he was ready ; and his mother came with him 
to say she did not know exactly what, to aunt 
Keziah. As for the latter, she was always ready, 
and would have scorned the idea of getting herself 
excited about any thing. 

*^As if,” she said to Piney’s mother, ‘‘I need to 
lose my seven senses over a little trip to the city 
with a lot of children ! ” 

“ She can’t mean us,” said Bi to Piney. “ We’re 
not children.” 

She did mean them, nevertheless ; but her 
thoughts ran mainly after Roxy and Susie, and 
both of them needed a little running after. 


OFF! 


303 


One of the farm-hands drove the big lumber- 
(Vagon around to the gate ; for such a party, and all 
its baggage, was too much for the canyall. Then 
came a grand five minutes of kissing, and saying 
good-by to all that remained behind of the two 
families. There were five other boys, living in 
the neighborhood, lingering around to see the going 
away; and every boy of them wished he had a 
right to get into that lumber-wagon, and set out 
for the great, wonderful, unknown world that was 
dimly known to him as “the city.” 

“ Kyle,” said Mrs. Wilbur, “ now, don’t you forget 
a single word I’ve told ye.” 

“Good-by, Piney. Good-by, Roxy,” said their 
mother. “ Good-by, Bayard, and give my love to 
them all.” 

Piney tried hard to say once more, “ Good-by, 
mother ; ” but he could not quite make it out. It 
was a queer thing. He had never felt just so 
before in all his life. But then, he had never be- 
fore been away from that farmhouse for more than 
one day at a time ; and it seemed to him, for a 
moment, as if the city might be somewhere on the 
other side of the world, and as if he might not see 
his mother again for a whole year. Then the driver 
cracked his whip, and the five boys hurrahed ; and 
they were off. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

IN THE GREAT CITY. 

■ There is almost always more than one road from 
one place to another. Aunt Keziah had decided to 
go to the city by the longer road, because it was 
so much the . pleasanter. A good deal more could 
be seen on the way. The lumber-wagon went only 
to the village ; and there a long-bodied omnibus was 
waiting to carry the whole party, with four or five 
other people, over to Parable Four Corners. A rail- 
way, that ran almost due north and south, went 
right through the middle of the Corners. When it 
was put through that village, three frame-houses 
had to be moved to other lots, and a barn was 
pulled down altogether, as Piney told Bi. 

A railway-train, going north, came puffing along 
to the station-house platform in less than twenty 
minutes after the omnibus discharged its passen- 
gers. Then, for about an hour, aunt Keziah had 
her hands full in keeping Roxy and Susie in their 
seats. What they wanted was to put their lieads 
304 


THE PARLOR-CAR, 


305 


out of the car-windows, and ‘*see if we haven’t 
’most got there.” 

Getting there, just now, meant reaching the large 
town where they should all go on board of another 
railway-train bound for the east. They did get 
there in due time ; but if Kyle Wilbur and Piney 
and the girls had not all seen that town before, they 
could not afterwards have been at all sure as to this 
visit. They could hardly see any thing else until 
they saw themselves safely seated in the other train, 
and heard the whistle blow, and knew they were 
once more a-going. This time every mile they 
travelled carried them nearer the city; while be- 
fore, and as long as they were moving northward, 
they experienced a sad feeling of being farther 
from it. 

“ There ! ” said Roxy. ‘‘ Kyle, don’t you feel 
better } I do.” 

Kyle had been the silent member of the party 
thus far ; and his only answer was, — 

•‘I guess I do, — some.” 

His behavior was therefore all his mother could 
have asked ; but there was one feature of his pres- 
ent trial which Bi could not have understood at all, 
and from which Piney did not suffer. 

They were in a parlor-car. 

It was too wonderfully fine for comfortable endur- 
ance ; and Kyle wondered and wondered why even 


3o6 


AMOATG THE LAKES. 


Roxy should feel so entirely at home. They rode 
at least a hundred miles before Kyle gained any 
sort of a victory over the elegance of that railway 
palace ; and even then he was worried by a strange 
sensation that it did not fit him at all. It fitted 
Roxy exactly; and, during the same time, she had 
made the acquaintance of three old gentlemen, and 
one old lady, and of a blue-eyed girl of her own 
size, with flaxen curls that made aunt Keziah think 
of candle-wickings ready to dip. 

It was a grand ride, in spite of the heat of that 
last day of June ; and there was plenty of daylight 
left when aunt Keziah woke up Roxy from the sofa 
in one corner of the car, where she had fallen 
asleep, and said to her, — 

Come, dear. This is Albany. We shall not 
ride any farther to-night.” 

O aunt Keziah ! ” was about all Roxy could 
think of at that moment ; but she was wide awake 
enough by the time she reached the hotel to which 
aunt Keziah, with Bi’s assistance, managed to guide 
them all. 

It was the finest hotel that Piney or Kyle had 
ever seen, but they did not say so. There had 
been a “family council” before leaving home; and 
it had been decided that the children should not 
ride all night, and that the whole party should have 
a daylight steamboat trip down the Hudson. Bi 


ROMANCE. 


307 


had been on that noble river before ; but neither of 
his two friends had ever seen so much river-water 
at once, nor had they looked upon a steamboat until 
that day. 

After supper Bi took them down to the steam- 
boat-wharf, and gave them a fine opportunity to 
draw long breaths, and feel as if they would like 
to travel all over the world right away. 

It did not take long for three such boys to get 
a good look at the State House, and a number of 
other buildings and places ; but, before they again 
reached the hotel, Roxy had three several times 
remarked, — 

Now, aunt Keziah, ain’t you scared about them } 
Will they know the way back ? ” 

** If they don’t, somebody’ll show ’em. I guess 
Bi can take care of ’em.” 

“ If he can’t, Piney can ; but it’s an awful long 
time.” 

The boys would have been quite willing to have 
made it an hour or two longer ; but Kyle stood in 
great awe of aunt Keziah, and it was he who in- 
sisted upon an early return to the hotel. 

It was a romantic adventure, even to sleep all 
night in such a hotel as that ; and it was so 
much so, that those three boys hardly slept at all. 
Even Bi lay awake a while, thinking of what a 
time he had been having, and wondering what he 


308 


AMONG THE LANES. 


should do with his guests after he got them to the 
city. 

“No lakes,” he said to himself, “no boating to 
speak of, not any fishing ; nothing, that I can 
see, except Fourth of July, and the soldiers. The 
fact is, the city isn’t the country, no way you can 
fix it. They’ll be awfully sick of it before the 
week’s put.” 

That was not exactly what they were looking 
forward to ; and when, at last, Kyle Wilbur went 
to sleep, he found himself dreaming dreams that 
seemed like a queer mixture of Parable Centre, the 
Arabian Nights, Piney, Bi, and himself. 

Aunt Keziah had her whole party on board the 
steamboat in excellent season Tuesday morning, 
and there was no need at all for Roxy to be so 
anxious lest one of the boys should get left behind. 
As for Susie, the pride of the trip to her, thus far, 
was that she had succeeded in treating it as if she 
had done just that sort of thing before, and knew 
all about it. 

Bi Hunter knew the Hudson pretty well, or 
thought he did ; but Piney had been a little too 
thoughtful. He had bought, at the hotel, a little 
pamphlet “guide-book,” that gave an account of 
every spot worth looking at on either shore. It 
also gave an account of a number of things and 
places they could not see at all from the steamboat ; 


PRETTY NEAR, NOW, 


309 


but, as Bi told them, ‘^that was only to fill up, after 
they’d told all there was to tell, and had some more 
paper.” They missed a few miles of scenery while 
they were down in the cabin eating dinner ; but 
Kyle said he should remember it all just as well, 
from reading the descriptions in the guide-book. 

Kyle was at last beginning to talk a little, but 
Piney grew more and more silent and thoughtful. 
He was steaming into a new world, and the idea 
of it seemed to weigh upon him. He helped aunt 
Keziah look out for Roxy and Susie. He stared at 
towns and villages and hills and great jutting 
headlands, and he wondered at the Palisades. He 
studied the steamers and sloops, and other river- 
craft, as they went by him. He even paid some 
attention to the passengers, for he never before 
had seen so many different kinds of people. He 
saw more than Bi and Kyle put together ; and when 
the steamboat touched her wharf at last, he was 
thoroughly tired out, just with seeing and thinking. 

Long before the wharf was reached, however, not 
only he, but the others as well, had experienced the 
grand sensation of their trip thus far. As the sun 
sank lower and lower, the steamboat pushed swiftly 
on down the river, between high banks that seemed 
all rocky precipice on one shore, and all beautiful 
places to live in on the other. 

Aunt Keziah gathered her chickens,’* as she 


310 


AMONG THE LANES, 


called them, under the tent-like awning forward ; 
and there they all sat or stood, looking out for the 
beginnings of the great city. Even Bi himself had 
but an imperfect idea in his mind as to how great 
it really was, until he began to point it out to 
Kyle and Piney. Ships and steamers of all sorts 
and sizes ; endless vistas of wharves and masts ; 
houses and roofs and steeples, away, away, until 
eyes grew confused, searching among them for the 
lines of streets, and wondering how so many people 
came to be living all together there in one swarm. 

It was a tremendous excitement to the two coun- 
try boys ; and aunt Keziah was quite right when 
she told them, “ It ought to be as good to you as a 
term at the ’cademy, just to go sailing by all that.” 

She had seen it several times in the course of 
her life ; but when Roxy asked her, “ Has it grown 
up any since then .? Has it } ” she was compelled to 
admit that it had, and that there seemed to be more 
of it this time. She was right too ; for it had 
very nearly doubled its size while she had been 
managing her farm, away off there in the country, 
among the little lakes. 

The steamer safely entered its dock. The pas- 
sengers began to pour out upon the pier. The 
journey’s end was reached, and the boys were all 
“in the city.” 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

A GREAT, NEW WORLD. 

There is never room enough in any great city 
for all the boys that are born there to grow up, and 
do well there. The main reason is, that, of every 
three such boys, two are unfit for city life. Some- 
times the third boy, also, is only half fit. Every- 
body knows, that, if the really successful men of any 
city are picked out by name, the great majority of 
them are found to have been born far away, and 
mostly in country places. 

Turn the truth the other way, and city boys, 
properly brought up, are just the fellows to do well 
in the country, and especially in new countries ; 
and so it is found that all our great West is full 
of successful men who came there from Eastern 
cities where there was no room or place for them. 
The country and the world is made better by a 
perpetual trading-off, back and forth, of its human 
beings of all sorts. 

Piney Hunter and Kyle Wilbur awoke with the 

3 ” 


312 


AMONG THE LANES. 


sun on the morning after their arrival. They were 
in a very handsome bed, in a large and elegantly 
furnished room. 

‘‘I say, Piney,’' began Kyle; and right there he 
stopped, and drew a long breath. 

‘‘ Kyle,” said Piney, we’re here.” 

That was a fact ; but they both got out of bed, 
and sat down on the edge of it, and stared around 
them for full five minutes, before they could more 
than half way make up their minds that the thing 
they had waked up to was a reality. 

Let’s dress,” said Piney. 

“No cows to drive to pasture this morning, any- 
how,” said Kyle. “ But they won’t have breakfast 
for ever so long, I guess.” 

Bi had conducted them to their room the night 
before, and had kindly explained to them all the 
mysteries of its hot and cold water faucets, and the 
marvels of the bath-room near by. 

They remembered it all now ; but in spite of 
that, they were once more sitting still before they 
were half dressed. Piney was on the floor, with a 
shoe in one hand, and a sock in the other ; while 
Kyle Wilbur found himself in a chair by the win- 
dow, and hardly could have explained why or how 
he got just there. Both were trying to do the 
same thing ; and that was to recall to mind all that 
had happened to them, and all they had seen, since 


TOO Mucm 


315 

the lumber-wagon drove away from the farmhouse- 
gate, away off there ‘‘among the lakes.” 

It was one of those things which cannot be 
done. There was altogether too much of it. They 
had to give up remembering the journey itself, and 
leave all that to be done piecemeal at some other 
time. But there was one thing that came back to 
them splendidly: they could not forget any small 
part of the way they had been welcomed to the 
house they were in. Even Kyle himself had been 
compelled to come within a mile or so of feeling 
almost at home, by the hearty kindness of uncle 
Liph and aunt Sarah and grandfather Hunter. He 
would not have dared, however, to tell his own 
mother what a remarkable appetite he had brought 
to the supper-table, nor how much he had eaten 
before his friends were willing to let him stop. 
Even aunt Keziah’s urging had been partly to 
blame for that, and Kyle came very near to saying 
as much to himself as he looked out of the window. 

After supper there had been a positively miracu- 
lous evening, and both the boys had a queer and 
vague idea that their memories must be lying to- 
them about some of the things that had been 
shown them. That any one house should contain 
so much that nobody had ever seen or heard of, 
was impossible. 

“ Piney ! ” exclaimed Kyle suddenly. 


314 


AMOArG THE LAKES. 


“ What is it now ? ” said Piney, as he slowly 
shoved his foot into the shoe, and began to pull 
the sock on over both. 

“I just dreamed it, that’s all. There wasn’t any 
hallow in that armor, and -r- Well, I did dream lots 
of things. It’s all a mix ” — 

“ Wake up ! ” half shouted Piney, as he kicked 
off the shoe, and put the sock on with a jerk. “ It’s 
all real, and here we are.” 

“ Hush, Piney ! We mustn’t make any noise. 
It wouldn’t do for us to wake ’em up.” 

“Well, no, we won’t; but I kind o’ wish some- 
body’d wake me up, and set me a-going.” 

They had not mentioned the matter before ; but 
they had been moving around, since they left the 
bed, as stealthily as a pair of cats, and they had 
hardly spoken above a whisper. They were speed- 
ily dressed now ; and Kyle asked doubtfully, — 

“Piney, do you s’pose you can find youi way 
down-stairs ? ” 

“Of course I can. You’ve just got to keep 
going on down, that’s all. But isn’t Mr. Sadler a 
perfect brick ! ” 

“Well, yes. Your uncle and aunt, and all your 
folks ” — 

“Yes. Grandfather and cousin Mary, and all the 
rest ; but you know Mr. Sadler told us to come 
down and take a look at the store, first thing we 
did.” 


SIX O* CLOCK. 


315 


“And he said he’d show us how they did business 
in the city.” 

Kyle said that in a subdued and awe-struck 
voice, as if he were speaking of something solemn 
and mysterious. There might be some reason for 
that too ; since if George Sadler, or any other man, 
could explain “how they do business in the city,” 
he would be doing a kind of miracle. 

They shut the chamber-door behind them with- 
out its making a sound, and their careful footfalls 
on the stairs would hardly have aroused a watch- 
dog. Once upon the parlor-floor, the one door 
that stood wide open invited them into the library. 
They walked on and in, a good deal as if possibly 
some curiosity or other might be lying in wait for 
them ; but hardly had they crossed the threshold 
before something almost like a voice seemed to 
speak to them from away up on the opposite wall. 
They were startled for a second or so ; but there 
was plenty of light for them to see the yellowish 
face of the “ cuckoo-clock ” from which the sound 
came, as its wooden bird fluttered in and out, and 
they understood the matter. 

“ Six o’clock, Piney,” whispered Kyle. “ We 
must have been an awful longtime getting dressed.” 

“ The rest ain’t up yet. Guess they were pretty 
tired. I say, Kyle, we must manage to get out of 
doors, or I’ll choke.” 


AMONG THE LANES, 


316 

‘‘ Do you s’pose we can do it ? Is there any way 
out as early as this ? ” 

“ There’s just got to be ! ” 

It seemed a daring thing to do, but Piney was a 
fellow of a good deal of courage ; and, after all, he 
was in his own uncle’s house. He led the way 
through the hall straight to the great double-doored 
front entrance. He let down the loose ‘‘night- 
chain,” and turned the great key that stood guard 
in the massive old-fashioned lock. Then he was 
puzzled for a good three minutes of ingenious 
efforts to open that door. 

“ Piney,” suggested Kyle, “ it’s the little lock up 
there that’s in the way.” 

“That’s so. It’s what they call a night-latch. 
I’ve heard of ’em.” 

He mastered that last barrier ; and in a few min- 
utes the two boys were out upon the ample door- 
step, drawing full breaths of fresh air and astonish- 
ment. Every thing around them, in every direction, 
told them that they were in the city. The very 
pavement seemed to look up at them knowingly, and 
remark, — 

“You never saw any thing just like me before.” 

Kyle Wilbur had carefully shut the door behind 
him when they came out, and there could not be 
any harm in that ; but now Piney remarked, — 

“ I believe I’d like to take a bit of a walk before 
breakfast.” 


BAREHEADED. 


317 


“ Come on. Let’s go,” said Kyle. “ I ain’t half 
sure I know where my hat is ; but we can go in, and 
look around.” 

He said he could, and he fully believed it until 
he tried to open that front door. The wicked night- 
latch had done it. Twenty such boys, and twenty 
more, could not have made their way into uncle 
Liph’s house without the help of somebody inside. 

“ I won’t ring the bell,” said Piney dolefully, — 
“not at this time in the morning.” 

“ What on earth’ll we do } ” 

“ I don’t care, Kyle. Let’s just go it bareheaded. 
We won’t go far.” 

“ Bareheaded, Piney } Well, if you say so. Be- 
sides, we can’t go any other way just now.” 

It was a warm, glorious July morning, and there 
was no danger at all that either of them would 
injure the kind of complexion he had brought with 
him. They forgot all about their hats in less than 
half a minute, as they walked on past square after 
square of great silent houses. 

“ People do stay in bed awfully late in the city,” 
remarked Kyle. 

“ And they sit up awfully late nights, to make up 
for it,” said Piney; “but I’d like to live here, for 
all that. Somehow I kind o’ feel as if I were going 
to do it ! ” 

Kyle was silent ; but just that very thought and 


318 


AMONG THE LANES. 


feeling had been at work in him all the morning. 
It worked harder and harder, and he was less and 
less inclined to talk, even after they wheeled around, 
and began to walk slowly back towards uncle Liph’s 
house. He spoke at last. 

“Piney, do you know anywhere near how long 
we’ve been gone ? ” 

“I couldn’t more’n guess. Fact is, Kyle, I’ve 
been keeping track for fear we’d get on the wrong 
street.” 

“ We couldn’t. We haven’t turned a corner. 
We’ve gone straight. I knpw we ain’t lost.” 

“ No ; but folks are beginning to look at us. 
We’re bareheaded.” 

That was so ; and there were more people in the 
streets now, and windows and doors were opening ; 
and a great muffled roar of a city getting at work 
was beginning to come to their ears with the wind 
from the south. 

That’s the house, Piney. Shall we have to ring 
the bell to get in ? ” 

guess we’ll have to, if we want any break- 
fast.” 

“I do.” 

Hullo ! If there there isn’t Mr. Sadler ! Hurry 

up.” 

There he was, truly; and he had come to take 
his breakfast at uncle Liph’s, and ** talk business ” 


JUNIOR PARTNERS, 


319 


a little before going down town to do it ; and he 
had a latch-key, and he was there to let his young 
friends from the country in without ringing. It 
was the very thing, truly ; but he had to laugh when 
they told about their hats, and how they had locked 
themselves out. He took them into the library, and 
talked with them and Bi until Mary came in, bring- 
ing Roxy and Susie to do all the rest of the talking. 

Somehow or other, it seemed as if Mr. Sadler 
and Mary made all the plans for spending that day, 
and several that were to come after it ; for aunt 
Sarah and the rest assented to whatever those two 
were agreed upon. It almost looked as if the older 
members of the family had given up the direction 
of it to their junior partners.” Anyhow,, one 
result of that wonderful first breakfast in the city 
was that Bi Hunter and Piney and Kyle went down 
town with Mr. Sadler, and the two country boys 
went wild over what he had to show them and tell 
them of business-life.” Kyle Wilbur hardly said a 
word after he left the house, and Piney cnly spoke 
when he was spoken to. Of course they could not 
look around the great store and the connting-room 
all the forenoon ; and Bi’s work came right after 
Mr. Sadler’s. Both of the boys managed to talk as 
soon as they had only Bi to talk to,, and the three 
together made a great day of it. Another day fol- 
lowed that, and another,, and another; and then 


320 


AMONG THE LANES. 


there came the wonder, to Piney and Kyle, of a 
Fourth of July in the city, with whole regiments of 
soldiers to look at, and all that sort of splendor. 
All the while the fascination of it grew and grew ; 
until, when the end of their week came, and aunt 
Keziah said she must take them all home, neither 
Roxy nor her brother nor Kyle Wilbur could have 
answered, if anybody had asked suddenly, whether 
it had been two months or only an hour or so since 
the steamboat landed them in the city. 

It was hard to go ; and yet they all wanted to 
get home, and get rested, somehow. They got 
away, with a great deal of help from Mr. Sadler 
and cousin Mary, who never left them till they 
were safely aboard another steamboat ; and they 
were hardly in motion up the Hudson before Piney 
turned to Kyle, and said, — 

Had a good time, Kyle ? ” 

“ Good time ? Guess so. Grand I ** 

“ Pm coming back some day.” 

“Are you So am I.” 

“ Let’s just study ! I want to know as much as 
Sadler does.” 

“You can’t do it, Piney Hunter.” 

“ Mebbe he didn’t know any more’n we do when 
he began.” 

“ P’r’aps he didn’t, but he does now. I’m coming 
some day.” 


THE GREA T FIRM, 


321 


“ Kyle,” said Piney, a little solemnly, do you 
Icnow, I heard cousin Mary say to Mr. Sadler, ‘What 
do you think now, George ? ’ and he said to her, ‘ Well, 
Mary, they’ll do, both of ’em.’ ” 


That was years and years ago, and there have 
been a great many changes since then ; but if any- 
body, walking down Broadway in the daytime, will 
look for a long sign, away across a double store- 
front, he may discover what came of that summer 
“among the lakes,” and that visit to the great city. 

The sign that tells the story is that of “ Sadler, 
Hunter, and Wilbur ; ” and the firm is a large one, 
with several old partners, and as many young ones. 
Mrs. Mary Sadler is very fond of having Mrs. Roxy 
Wilbur and Mrs. Richard Hunter come and take 
tea with her ; and every now and then they have a 
visit from Mr. and Mrs. Bayard Hunter, especially 
in the winter. At any other time nothing can 
tempt “uncle Bi” away from his model of a farm, 
away up country “Among the Lakes.” 


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- H 


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By ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. 

W’ith sixteen full-page Illustrations. One volume, 1 2mo. $1.25. 

“ Mr. Stevenson has never appeared to greater advantage than in ‘Kidnapped.* 
. . . No better book of its kind than those ‘ Memoirs of the Adventures of David 

Balfour ’ has ever been written.” — The Nation. 


THE OLD-FASHIONED FAIRY BOOK. 

Bv Mrs. BURTON HARRISON. 

With many quaint Illustrations by Miss Rosina Emmet. 

One volume, square i 6 mo. $1.25. 

*‘The little ones, who so willingly go back with us to ‘Jack the Giant-Killer,* 
•Blue-beard,’ and the kindred stories of our childhood, will gladly welcome Mrs. 
Burton Harrison’s ‘ Old-Fashioned Fairy Tales,’ where the giant, the dwarf, the 
fairy, the wicked princess, the ogre, the metamorphosed prince, and all the heroes 
of that line come into play and action. . . . The graceful pencil of Miss Rosina 

Emmet has given a pictorial interest to the book, and the many pictures scattered 
through its pages accord well with the good old-fashioned character of the tales.”— 
Frank R. Stockton. 

BRIC-A-BRAC STORIES, 

By Mrs. BURTON HARRISON. 

Illustrated and Cover designed by Walter Crane. One volume, i 2 mo. $2.00. 

“ Upon the whole it is to be wished that every boy and girl in America, or any- 
where else, might become intimately acquainted with the contents of this book. 
There is more virtue in one of these stories than in the entire library of modern 
juvenile literature.”— Julian Hawthorne. 


Charles Scribner’s Sons, Publishers, 743-745 Broadway, New York, 






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